


Violent Leisure

by Skeren



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Explosions, Fire, Knifeplay, M/M, Mind Games, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Bondage, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 116,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5978851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimblee takes a detour on his way out of town and corners Roy. Suffice to say, it's the start of a downward spiral that benefits no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was co-written by a friend going under the name Severed_Sanity back on LJ in 2005.

He would never forget the feeling, the rush, the craving that his alchemy held for him. The tethered feel of twining molecules together, splicing through the atoms to form what he needed. His fingers gripped tighter around the writhing man's neck as he coldly smirked down at his face. All to soon, the feeling fled and all that remained was the building fire raging to escape from the boundaries of its human host. 

Kimblee loosened his grip and let the man fall at his feet. "Thank you for the information." He cackled lightly before turning to leave. "I'll be sure to give Mustang your regards." The splashing gush of human remains was all that greeted his ears as he turned the corner towards his old _pal's_ residence.

The house he was looking for was in a reasonably nice area of town, just bordering the military section. It wasn't big by any means, but it certainly put the barracks to shame. Of course, any Alchemist had to have somewhere to store his personal library and food. None of that impressed him though, as his mind was more focused on other matters.

How long had it been since he'd seen Flame? Years, of course, but how long truly? He didn't honestly care, but the thought of being so near to his target after so long made him question just how long he had planned this out. It had been a long process, this course of action he sought to take, one that he'd toyed with as nothing but mere fanciful daydreams at first. But, when his liberation was made firm, it had become something more akin to obsession. Disturbing as it sounded, even to him, he actually enjoyed picking his intentions apart to analyze. Though, the real fun came with the result he wished to obtain. In the end, everything would be red and gone. But he liked it that way best. All he needed to do was wait.

He slipped into the house, jimmying the lock quickly to duck through the door. It was empty of life, but that was understandable since the sun had yet to go down. The lights were off, and the barren area seemed to be more like a library than a home, with bookshelves lining every wall, and books scattered over every available surface.

Kimblee's eyes skimmed over the tomes as he passed. Nothing more than simple alchemy books or subjects along those lines. Pathetic political journals broke the monotony every so often, but the bulk revolved around the breakdown of the base alchemic processes. Why would Flame even care? Sure, he'd always been a sniveling political lap dog with nothing but unrealistic ideals of the military but never one for simplicity. No, Mustang seemed to enjoy the hard route. It never ceased to amuse Kimblee when he thought back to the bumbling fool Flame had been before the war and he took even greater delight in remembering how he was afterward. The hardened look of innocence lost was priceless. The fool. 

It was two hours later that the man who Kimblee had been thinking of so intently arrived home, too focused on getting to his kitchen to realize that his door had already been unlocked when he'd twisted his key. It was a horrible display of inattention. The man didn’t even notice he was sitting there! Kimblee had long since made himself at home in the residence Roy Mustang. 

Not at all worried about the time it had taken for the other alchemist to return home, he'd propped himself in one of the overstuffed contraptions he took for a chair and waited. He'd been able to glean information about the man from the objects littering the place. It was obvious he lived alone, and it was completely devoid of the knickknacks or pictures. It seemed the man had grown colder after the war, no longer the cheery optimist he'd once been. All the better. Kimblee hated dealing with simpering fools that were still clinging to ridiculous ideals. He watched Flame enter the kitchen and couldn't help but smirk. He wondered how long he could sit here before the idiot realized someone else was in his home. Probably awhile, and he didn’t want to wait.

Roy sort of paused when he finally realized there was a light on, as he was sure he’d turned them all off. He quickly turned around and left the kitchen again, running his gaze over the room. Now that he was paying attention, the signs of disturbance were glaringly difficult to miss. It was a sign of his distraction that he'd even missed it before, with everything going on out there. Still, that it happened at all had him going alert as he tried to reassess and look for a source of the tampering.

Kimblee sat perfectly still in his seat, a half smirk plastered on his features while waiting. Maybe he would help the poor fool out. "It's a good thing, Flame, that I didn't plan to kill you right away." His voice was cold and even, no real hint of emotion floating off the words. "You're no better than a new recruit. Pathetic."

Roy’s gaze finally reached that corner of the room with the words, and he stared a moment. He didn't look shocked, though inwardly he was cringing away from this signal of insanity. Wasn’t that what it was considered when you saw dead men?. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Nice way to greet a fellow war veteran, Flame." He was already bored with the man and things had barely begun. How badly did he want what information Mustang had? The need for information did not outweigh the need to quench his thirst for bloodshed. However, he didn't feel the need to do it so quickly. "Define your term for dead."

The colonel stayed over on his side of the room, glad his gloves were on even as he failed to move into action to use them. "Last I knew, you were supposed to have been executed." He shook his head a little. "What did you expect me to say? Nice to see you? That would be a blatant lie."

"And we both know how you feel about lying, don't we?" He leaned forward from the chair and pinned the man with a murderous glare. "Executed?! Death would have been preferable to what I, and many like me, received. Ah, but death is a fickle mistress who likes to dance along fate's boundaries and give false hope of a true end. The bitch didn't like me that well. I'm still here. And it seems she doesn't care for you either... you're still breathing."

Roy twitched a little, then lifted his chin with a smirk. "Well, then it's just the way things work out, isn't it? And yes, I'm entirely sure you were supposed to be killed quite a few years ago."

Kimblee may have seemed relaxed and aloof but he was, in reality, poised and ready to spring. He'd also been studying his fellow alchemist intently. He took note of the slight fatigue showing in the man's posture, and could tell that he'd had a rough day by the slight scuff marks on the man's boots. With a smirk, he noted the white gleam of those infamous white gloves. Mustang was slow, but not stupid, thankfully. Things were looking up for Kimblee's evening. 

"Supposed? That doesn't make it so, Flame. No one really cares what happens to an incarcerated man... or woman for that matter." He mumbled the last bit as he thought back to his time in the cells. He remembered, vaguely, seeing some women being ushered to and from the various cells that lined the laboratory prison, but he shook the thoughts off. This wasn’t about his memories, it was about the here and now. "As long as I was kept out of sight, no one knew the difference. So in a way, I was dead."

"In fact, they _announced_ that you were already dead if I remember correctly." It was not the day for this. Not that it ever would be, but today he'd had to put out some domestic fires the Elric had set out in the East. It didn't leave him in prime form to joust with Kimblee verbally.

"Ah, are we stalling for something Flame?" Kimblee asked in a false cheery voice. "You aren't listening very well. They can say anything they like, but it doesn't make it true. They have the power to make people disappear, to be forgotten. Didn't work out too well for them in the end, though. Their little experiment backfired." His eyes seemed to flare to life as he got lost in a far away moment. "The fireworks were spectacular... too bad you weren't there to see them."

Roy did actually flinch with that one. He really preferred not to remember the joy he’d once taken in his fire. "Not stalling, just trying to decide what to do with you."

Kimblee's smirk turned dark in a matter of seconds. "Do with me? My, my, getting presumptuous aren't we Flame? You were no match for me during the war, and I have serious doubts that you’ve improved over time. But if you care to prove me wrong..." With painstakingly slow movements intended to be intimidating, on some level, he rose to his feet and placed his right hand on his hip. "I'm all for it."

Roy very carefully kept himself from looking away, as he had so many times during the war when faced with that very same challenge. "Well, you did invade my home."

"Yes, that. Very bad security you have. Almost laughable how easy it was to slip into this place. Really Mustang," He switched to the man's given name to turn it more personal. Flame, Crimson, Crystal... those names were just some mechanically contrived nonsense to give the military alchemists some twisted sense of importance. A bunch of horse shit if you asked him. "You'd think someone who'd played by the rules of war would be a bit more cautious. But then again, you never played correctly." He began to inch his way closer to the man with the serious intent of curling his fingers around the slender neck sticking out from the blue collar.

Roy stiffened, shifting back a little in a barely perceptible movement, so his back wasn't to a wall anymore. "I go by my own rules. I only just got here so the security hasn't been a main concern."

"So noted, but I could really care less. Your security isn't what I came here for Mustang, as I'm sure even you have figured out." He was almost within arms reach of the man, and some part of him wondered why the alchemist who set fire to hundreds during the war hadn't managed to light a single spark by now. If he was truly conceited, he would have said it was because he commanded attention with a murderous aura, but he knew better than that.

Roy slipped to the side when Kimblee got close, moving back at least a good two feet. He was cursing himself for the ingrained reaction to _not_ attack the man, and his fingers twitched a little as he thought about it. He thought he’d broken all the conditioned reactions from Ishbal, but obviously, he was mistaken.

A dark brow rose over a gold eye at the movement, consideration making him stop his advance. Conceited or not, he was beginning to think there was something to this. He almost barked in laughter when a thought came to him. "Oh come now Mustang, not still carrying that pitiful oath around are you? The one we all swore when we joined? I believe there was something in there about attacking your fellow soldier? Awww I didn't know you cared."

"Believe me, it's not something I'm in a mood to follow." He narrowed his eyes a little. Really, if any of the other soldiers had threatened him from back then, he would have reacted instantly, but Kimblee always had had a weird affect on him. He brought his hand up, and was pleased he wasn’t practically immobile anymore.

He'd been expecting this since the beginning so he wasn't surprised by the action. He'd also been waiting for it. Within an instant he sprang into motion, lunging forward to catch the man's raised wrist in one hand while his other latched onto the one by the alchemist's side. The force from his swift movements sent them both careening into a nearby wall, making a distinctive THUNK as the shorter of the two's back connected with the sheetrock and plaster. Roy hissed out a breath on contact and barely avoided smacking his head, dark eyes glaring at Kimblee from the sudden proximity. The damn man was too close for him to attack without setting them both alight now. He should have attacked a long time ago.

“Now _that_ was pathetic Mustang." Kimblee breathed quietly, as if the innocent words were threatening. "You never learned, did you? But that's really to my advantage, so I'm not complaining." He squeezed the upwardly turned wrist, twisting it just enough to cause sufficient pain.

"Feel special, anyone else would have been fried a while ago." He gritted his teeth, refusing to lose the calm glare.

The taller man bent his head forward until their noses practically touched, deflecting the pitiful excuse for a glare with one of his own. His, however, was anything but calm. "Honored, I'm sure. You should have known better. A convicted killer just happens to be waiting for you to return home and you spend your time bantering on like a simpleton instead of taking action. Endearing, but stupid."

"It wasn't for lack of wanting to, make no mistake on that." Roy leaned his head away, ending up fully against the wall. He'd been stupid, he could admit that. He'd also been in shock.

The movement exposed more pale flesh behind the blue and gold of the uniform. A sight that made the Crimson alchemist smile in manic delight, but whether it was from the unconscious act of submission, or from something else, he couldn't rightly tell. Either way, it gave him more confidence in his skewed course of action. "I don't make many mistakes Mustang. But your wanting and my doing are two different things. You see, " He tilted his face until it was right against the man's ear, "I take advantage of the weaknesses of others... and enjoy doing it."

Roy didn't like that at all, and he jerked at his hands, finally seeming to get it through his head that he was pinned and shouldn't be just _standing_ there. He was seasoned military, he should know better. Even the newest recruits knew better than to let themselves be trapped in like this.

Of course, Kimblee merely added more pressure to both wrists, digging his nails into the fabric at the hem of the gloves where they snagged bits of flesh. He'd also pressed one of his knees into the man's legs, effectively stunting any attempts to kick at him or struggle free. "Going somewhere?" His tone was amused, eyes watching the side of Mustang's face.

"Get off me." He tried, futilely, to dislodge Kimblee, voice steely. Of course, he wasn't an idiot, he really wasn't, and he was fully aware that he wasn't actually managing to _do_ anything that would be remotely effective. That didn't mean that the severity of the situation wasn't finally getting through to him though to set his nerves alight with adrenaline.

How he enjoyed taunting his opponents, nettling at their self-worth, logic, or anything else he could get at. It was just too easy to get a rise out people, and Mustang always had been the easiest. Now that he had him practically where he wanted him, it wasn't going to be easy to stop. This was not what he had planned on from the beginning... but it would entertain him none the less. Kimblee pressed more of his body against the struggling man and laughed. "No, I don't think I will."

The smaller alchemist hissed a little, finally deciding that if he got a bit burned to get Kimblee off him, that would be perfectly acceptable. He narrowed his eyes a little and twisted his hand so he could snap. After all, he still had his gloves on and that was more than adequate for his needs.

"Tsk tsk, and here I thought you'd learned your place." Things could have gone an assortment of ways at that point. Not all of them very good in Kimblee's opinion, and few even touched on what he wanted. So, in an effort to keep things under his control, he pressed further onto the man until he was practically flush, bent his head towards the exposed neck, and bit. Hard.

Roy jerked at the contact just as he managed to make a spark, his concentration broken before he could carry through his intentions, and he stilled briefly, the jolt of pain in that area wholly unanticipated. Of course, he knew better than to try to predict Kimblee, but he'd gotten out of the habit of not being shocked. It was doing him no favors tonight, and he was quickly realizing that he might end up dead if he didn't get his head in the game. It wasn't exactly reassuring that the man hadn't tried to blow him to pieces yet, true, but the fact that he hadn't spoke of something more worrying.

Kimblee didn't release the flesh until coppery tang bombarded his sense. The taste of blood was something he sorely missed during his years of incarceration, so he was a bit greedy as he lapped at the wound for a few moments. He pulled back to smirk at his victim. "If I knew that was all it would take to keep you quiet Mustang, I would have done that years ago."

"Get off me." It was a hiss, but Roy only managed to put a minimal amount of command behind it as he jerked at his wrists, bracing his shoulders to put more force into it. He gave up on trying to keep the man's gaze, deciding that just getting away from him would be nice. The bastard had just _bitten_ him. Nobody had before, at least not like that. 

"Tug all you like, but I doubt you'll get anywhere like that." The sight before him was amusing, but also alluring. This was definitely not what he had in mind earlier, but now, seeing the feared Flame alchemist struggling to get away from him and the situation he'd put him in, it awoke another part of Kimblee that had lain dormant within him since the war. It was true he'd always been sadistic, perhaps even a tad masochistic, to suit his needs, and now he was drawing from his experience with both. He ground his knee into the man's leg more harshly and waited for the delicious signs of pain to start wearing a pattern in Mustang's eyes. 

Clenching his teeth, the Colonel growled, deciding to try and _shove_ him off instead, rolling his body up off the wall with his full strength. The moment he had room to move his fingers again, he intended to use it. "Stop it."

Kimblee had wondered when it would get to this point, and was, quite frankly, surprised the man hadn't tried to knock him off earlier. Then again it was Mustang underneath him, so he possibly could manage his goal given the chance. Of course, it didn't work like the alchemist wanted, though it did manage to make Kimblee take a step back. It wasn't for long though, because as soon as he regained his equilibrium he slammed the man back into the wall. He growled low in his throat, practically clawing at the wrists in his hands, "I don't plan on stopping anything Mustang. Once I start something, I finish it."

It was obvious the body slam had had an effect when Roy had to take a deep breath, briefly dazed by the force behind it. He'd manage to actually get a bit of space before the man had knocked him back into the wall, and he hadn't saved his head this time. He focused quickly enough to register his wrists were in quite a bit of pain though. Words then, as ineffectual as _those_ were in this situation. "Let go of me you sadistic bastard!"

He drank in the obvious plea through the threatening voice and relished the sensation it gave him. There weren't any doubts that he was enjoying this situation far more than any man should, but he couldn't help himself. This was, by far, more fun than he'd had even since he turned that unfortunate informant into a crimson colored stain in the alleyway just hours before. "Mmm I think not, and I wouldn't be doing that again if I were you. You don't want to upset me Mustang." He dipped his head until they were practically nose to nose again. "You wouldn't enjoy me _upset_."

The dark-eyed man stiffened at the inherent threat in that, pressing back away from the other immediately with a defensive glare. He was beating himself liberally for being so stupid as to let the man within range of him already. Commentary like that was just reinforcing it. He twitched his fingers, trying to get enough feeling past the ache in his wrists to use the flint in his gloves. "You expect me to just _stand_ here?"

Kimblee snaked his tongue over his upturned lips, "Oh no, I don't expect you to just stand anywhere Mustang. I honestly expect you to do your damnedest to kill me. But I don't see you succeeding." He wasn't going to waste much more of this perfect opportunity on baiting the man, even though it was deliriously fun to do so. 

With a deepened smirk he again attacked the pale flesh, latching onto the same spot. He idly wondered how long it would take before he got him to scream. As he bit down again he thought he wouldn’t mind the wait. Roy didn't freeze this time, instead immediately thrashing instead of just _letting_ him, twisting both shoulders as he tried to avoid the bite and get a leg loose to properly attack. Being bitten _hurt_ , and he wanted the damn man off him so he could effectively attack. He tried to get his hands into a good angle to snap again, or even scrape them against the wall, as he couldn't with how Kimblee had them in his grip. 

He'd almost managed to free himself enough to attack properly when Kimblee reacted, laughing against the smaller alchemist's neck and biting down again on soft skin. He didn't linger this time like he had the first though, instead springing into movement. He dropped the wrist gripped upwards and slammed his palm into the Mustang's cheek with enough force to daze, or at the very least startle him still. 

"I told you, Mustang, you shouldn't upset me." He quickly repeated the motion, harder, before recapturing the wrist. It was obvious to him that the smaller man had been staggered by it and couldn't use the opportunity. Good. He'd made sure to grab just below the fabric this time and he brought it towards his mouth. With a devilish smile, he sank his teeth into the one of the white fingertips and yanked the glove free. "One down," He growled as he spit the material to the floor and tugged up the other arm. "One to go."

Roy jerked back, fighting to keep his hand _down_ , and out of glove-tugging reach. He had to beat back the rise of panic this very concept inspired. He refused to be completely helpless. He wasn't weaker than the other man, even if the other was bigger. He'd been an idiot and put himself at risk, yes, but he wasn't about to let himself be _disarmed_. He couldn't afford to let it get that bad. He very much could not.

"See, there you go again... upsetting me." Kimblee sighed in a put-upon manner. He easily defused any further struggles by bringing his knee up into the man's stomach with force enough to stun momentarily. With that out of the way, the second glove was quick work.

Roy fought to regain the breath that had been driven out of his lungs, fisting his hands tightly and feeling completely naked without his main weapon. He certainly couldn't get to his gun at this angle either. Fists it was. He took advantage of the distance left by the blow to his stomach to try and trip him up, or at the very least to kick him away. After all, he _was_ still active military, and idiotic ingrained reaction to this man or not, he was hitting the point of being able to override at least some of them to get away from the very real threat to his person.

It was unexpected and shouldn't have worked, but Kimblee wasn't perfect, so when Mustang's ankle snaked behind one of his own and tugged upwards, he lost his balance. Thankfully, to him at least, he didn't loose his grip on the other man's wrists. The connection with the floor, quickly followed by the full weight of another body slamming into his chest sent him grimacing and gasping for air, but he didn't let the pain phase him. He'd been through far worse so he wasn’t about to let something this small deter him from action. Within seconds of hitting the floor, he rolled to the side and pinned the smaller alchemist beneath him. 

Between gasps of air he sneered down into Mustang's face. "That... was a... mistake"

A brief flash of satisfaction flickered across his face, but he was less than pleased when he found himself pinned to the floor after a tussle for leverage, not even having gravity to work with anymore. If he'd been able to get his wrists loose, it would have been a different story, unfortunately. "It was rather satisfying on _my_ end."

Kimblee hissed when he moved the ankle the man had tripped up. It was probably going to swell. He would have to repay him for that. "Short lived as well." 

The long haired alchemist snarled and claimed the man's lips in a savage kiss that was sure to bring blood from one of them. His expectations were swiftly realized, as the smaller man wasn't in the least happy with that course of action at all and _bit_ , of course. Roy clearly wasn't about to let it head anymore that direction than it already had, though at this point he didn't seem to realize anything more than violent flirting was on the agenda. The Crimson alchemist practically moaned into his Mustang's mouth when he felt the pain flare from his lips, and he drew back to smile. The damn ass nearly bit clean through his bottom lip, so the blood was dripping freely. He licked at it a moment before chuckling. 

"So you like it rough, do you Mustang? Hmm, that's alright, so do I. Never was one for the safe fuck and suck myself. Too boring." Kimblee didn't intend to do more than strip away the man's resistances while possibly get some satisfaction out of making him writhe underneath him. He honestly didn't plan on kissing him either... but it looked and tasted good at the time. What the other didn't know wouldn't hurt.

Roy's eyes widened a little with that, as it was entirely _not_ the reaction he'd wanted. The slight widening quickly turned into a narrow-eyed glare. "Get off me, you sick bastard." He said each word in a measured voice, trying to make it come across as pissed instead of frightened. He'd managed that before, so he figured he could do it now.

"I'm particularly enjoying the view from up here Mustang, so again, NO." He slid a knee between the other man's legs and pressed hard enough to hurt. "You don't seem to be enjoying this as much as me. Pity really. Would be so much simpler if you stopped being stupid. But I can't expect clarity from a dunderheaded fool, now can I?" It was just too easy and far too much fun to bait and yank the man. He laughed quietly against Mustang's neck as he lapped at the earlier wound. 

Roy twisted a little, trying to keep Kimblee off the damn bite, and he jerked at his pinned wrists a little as he choked back a curse on realizing that the man was _dripping blood into an open wound_. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing he noticed. While Kimblee may not have heard it, the sudden clenching of the throat underneath his lips and the suddenly pent-up rush of air, he felt. He smiled ferally on the bite and ground his tongue into the wound. He was going to make Mustang scream, and he had all the time in the world in which to try. He didn't doubt the younger alchemist's resolve, not in the least, but he knew he could far outlast him. He wasn't about to leave it alone, so he pressed his knee just that much harder into Mustang's groin.

Briefly refocusing his efforts to get away, he instead just took what slack he _did_ have to brace a foot to push himself away from that painful pressure, edging across the floor. "Leave me the fuck alone."

Kimblee jerked his head up and continued the motion until he could stare, fully, down at the man beneath him. He took sadistic pleasure in seeing the faint hints of a nasty bruise creeping up on the reddened cheek, and even more when he seen the bloody mess he left on the pale neck. Of course, it wasn't so pale anymore. "You keep saying the same things Mustang and I keep giving you the same response. This is one of those times that the instructors at the academy warned about. The ones where you are supposed to just grit your teeth and bear the pain. Not one for listening to them either I suppose."

The shorthaired man gave him something that could conceivably be a smile, but was really more of a determined baring of teeth. "No."

"Pity for you then. But, of course, I don't think I mind that. I'd rather you scream than stay quiet. I don't particularly like the quiet ones. They tend to be less entertaining, and you are so much more than that." At this point he had a choice, he could either continue down this path and make the colonel truly regret something the man probably didn't even realize he'd done, or he could finish his baiting and drag out the information he wanted then leave the pitiful sap to recover. He wasn't clear on which he wanted more.

Roy glared back at the eyes so close to his, hanging onto his resolve to be a stubborn silent brick. "I won't scream." It was a growl, since he'd barely gotten a chance to catch his breath properly.

Mustang's words decided for him. The cocky bastard thought he was going to get through this little encounter with just a few scratches and a hell of a hickey. He had another thing coming. Kimblee's eyes turned to pure ice as he stared down into the unrelenting depths of his victim's eyes. "And I'm not going to give you the choice to refuse."

A flicker of fear actually made it into Roy’s dark eyes as he saw the subtle change, but he didn't break the intense staring contest either, tightening his hands into fists where they were pinned to the floor. "I won't." 

Kimblee couldn't help the dark smile that flit across his bloodied lips. "By the time I'm finished with you Roy, you'll be sorry you didn't do this my way." He needed to secure those effective killing machines Mustang called hands. True, they were less dangerous without the faithful cloth but they could still do some damage if they weren't bound and out of the way. All he needed was a few seconds and a free hand to be able to accomplish the task... but it involved letting one of Mustang's go. 

The long haired man quickly decided that giving the man something else to worry about for a moment would help. He raised his knee to relieve the pressure to the younger man's groin, only to ram it roughly back seconds later. With that done, he released the most damaged wrist and brought his hand to his mouth to capture some of the blood from his lip. Mere seconds later, he set about drawing a quick array beside the raven haired man's head. He wasn’t going to be afforded much time, so with one quick glance to make sure he'd gotten the signals correct, he placed his hand atop and waited for the alchemy to activate. 

Caught out by the blow to the rather sensitive area, Roy didn't have a chance to avoid the alchemy that was activated right next to his head. One moment he was stunned by a too well-aimed knee, and the next he had not quite solid bands from his tile floor securing his uppers arms down, completely eliminating any chance he had of doing anything else with them. And that truly disturbed him as nothing else had yet.

When the bands finished filtering through the tile and secured the man firmly, Kimblee felt it safe to relax his grip and let go of the other wrist completely. Bits of skin and blood were under his nails on both hands, but he wasn't too worried about that. A bit of soap and a scrub later would take care of any evidence. The dark smile deepened as he straddled the man's hips. There were still the legs to worry about, but he didn't think the alchemist would think that far ahead just yet... and if he did. More the fun for him. 

"Ah, free hands at last. Though why I didn't just blow yours off... maybe I should have now that I think about it. Would have been less trouble for me. But you would have died from blood loss and shock. Oh well. This more than makes up for it, don't you think?" Roy took a deep breath and relaxed a little, seeming to find the clarity in there somewhere to give the man a nasty glare. "The eyes are the most expressive tools in human language, did you know that? They have been said to be windows to the very soul, and can never lie. I think it's bullshit, but it sounds nice." He was spouting random crap out of a pure desire to make the man squirm. He was delaying the inevitable, he knew, but it was enjoyable to watch the emotions play off the man. Even if it wasn’t written on Mustang's face, the emotions were apparent from his body language, breathing patterns, and yes, those damned dark eyes. "You're afraid, I can tell... but still stubbornly fighting reality. Don't worry... it'll come soon."

Roy didn't stop glaring, but a bit more unease filtered into it, weakening the impact he'd been trying for. He also couldn't hold onto his gaze anymore. "What’s the point of this?" 

"Point? You mean there has to be a point for you to finally accept what's happening?" He couldn't help the tight laugh. "There was never any point to this Mustang, there was just the moment. From there it grew. There still isn't much of a _point_ , more of a need on my end. You presented a challenge and I need to answer it. There's nothing more, and nothing less. Hell, all I wanted from you in the beginning was information on what the fuck happened since my sentence. It’s amazing how little you can learn when you are a free man and yet still wanted." He calmed down after a deep breath, and he gave Mustang a thoughtful look. "No, no point. Just fun... think you can deal so readily with that?"

Roy was rather sure he stopped breathing altogether for a second, then he took a slow, uneasy breath, seeming to be utterly fascinated by what Kimblee had just said. "So essentially, if I'd just asked what you wanted, I wouldn't be _here_?"

"Well, well, well... there's a functioning brain up there after all." He knew he was being patronizing, but Mustang deserved it. "But yes, if you'd just asked then none of this would have happened. I don't do things rashly, even if I've been perceived as demented. Of course, I didn't try to _dissuade_ that little rumor either. It's so much easier to get what I want when people believe I'm a megalomaniac."

Roy let his head thump back to the tile, and he was visibly cursing himself. He _must_ have been tired to have overlooked something so glaringly obvious when he'd returned home that night. He'd been so busy trying to deal with the Elric fall out and to plan for the inquiry over the damages that he hadn't been able to focus on something as painfully _simple_ as asking what the hell an escaped convict wanted. 

Kimblee chuckled darkly and gripped the smaller man's chin, yanking downward roughly. "You've grown soft, weak, since the war. How the hell did you even survive? You don't have what it takes to survive... Damn that Hawkeye bitch. She should have let you die. You aren't worth the pri-" He had to stop himself. Mustang was possibly worth the price, if only to be used and abused. When the hell did he get so lecherous? "Mm I believe you have your uses, but I'll be damned if I can think of one that is focused outside the bedroom."

Roy hissed out a breath, snapping back to the moment instead of beating himself up like he'd been a moment before, and he jerked his chin away. It was disorienting enough to know he felt, even in _this_ position, safe enough to let his mind wander. If anything, _that_ was the most frightening part of all this. He hadn't taken it seriously because on some level he hadn't felt _threatened_. "Then apparently you have no reason to be here, do you?"

"Other than finding my fun, you mean?" He made sure that his voice veritably dripped with acidic sarcasm. Sometimes Mustang was just too thick for his own good. "I haven’t quite gotten what I came for, now have I? You haven't given me what I want, nor have I taken it. So I believe we have some unfinished business."

Roy glared up at him, trying to see if he had any slack at all in his new bindings. "You don't care about the information anymore, do you." It was flat, not really a question.

Kimblee pressed himself back into place atop Mustang's body and bent close to the pale face. "No." _And it's all your fault_ was left hanging in the air between them. It was all the pony's fault and there wasn't anything that could be done about it... at least not by the bound alchemist. The only thing that would save him, it seemed, was someone wandering over, but Kimblee's informant had given ample schedules of any and all of Mustang's regular visitors... even a few of the irregular ones.

Roy curled his fists and stared back at him, the unspoken words as obvious as if they'd been shouted in his face. That didn't mean he would struggle any less if he persisted in carrying through, of course, but there'd always be this niggling that said he did it to himself. "And there's no changing your mind."

Oh, the pony wanted to _negotiate_ did he? Well, it wasn't a first per say, but it was interesting. Kimblee propped an elbow on the man's chest and leaned his head into the opened palm. "And just how can you change my mind?" It wasn't going to help the alchemist in any way, but he felt like humoring some false hope before crushing it swiftly with the painful reminder of just who was in charge of this situation.

Alright, that might have been completely futile, especially as he could come up with a sum total of nothing in reply to that question. He was pinned down and tied up, this didn't give him options. "I was rather hoping you'd tell me."

"Heh, sorry but the cold hard truth is you can't. No, I'm enjoying this little diversion." He moved his face right alongside the bruised area on the colonel's cheek, licking the area teasingly. "You were doomed from the beginning."

Roy leaned away from the action quickly, glaring. "Well, I've never taken to being doomed very well." Somewhere in there, he'd apparently dragged his resolve back together.

"No, you don't seem the type." The man mumbled as he continued exploring the warmed area with his tongue. Bruises tasted different from undamaged areas. Maybe it was the pooling blood just below the surface of the skin that made it so appealing? Kimblee didn't really care about that at the moment since all he cared about was getting his prize for winning this perceived challenge. If he wanted to do that, he would have to step up his assault tactics. "But you'll learn. I have all the time in the world to make this punishment last Mustang. Do you think you can outlast me?"

"Nobody has all the time in the world." He twisted more fully away from the unwelcome attention to the bruise. Then he started to gauge what bits of himself he had to work with.

"You seem to think I have something pressing to occupy my time, Mustang." He spat the words bitterly into the man's ear. A moment later he sank long fingers into the thick raven hair and yanked Mustang's head back towards his mouth. "I wasn't done quite yet. Do not move again or this will become more painful for you." He was going to do this the hard way by the looks of it, because he knew Mustang had some fight still left in him. His one true goal, at the moment he let himself be pulled into this little game, was to make those vibrantly expressive eyes turn dull and listless. He wanted to hear the man's pain filled screams echo in the darkened room around them and bounce off the walls. In time, he would get them. How long it would take depended on how much the Flame alchemist could take.

Of course, the hair pulling was met with a small jerk of resistance, but not enough for the man to actually rip out his own hair. He growled a little. "I'll never understand your fascination for pain."

"I have an interesting relationship with pain. One that took years to cultivate. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Mustang?" Kimblee seemed to lose interest in what he'd been doing after that statement. Releasing the hair, he moved that hand to the floor beside the prone body. "You'll be on the utmost intimate terms with it shortly, so don't fret about that." 

It was time to completely immobilize his little pet project. No sense in losing what he'd gained by letting the man have some leeway. It just wouldn't do, no, not at all. He set about binding Mustang's legs far enough apart that the ache would soon set in if there wasn't any movement for the muscles. Roy didn't exactly make it easy of course, obviously not caring for the idea of being even less in control. Having his arms over his head was bad enough. Despite his resolve, Roy didn't even manage to land a decent kick because of Kimblee leaning low over his torso. He could only be grateful he was still fully dressed.

"Disgraceful," was muttered to no one in particular as Kimblee finished preparing Mustang in the pose he thought best suited the man. It was so deliciously simple that it ached to be done. He idly wondered why no one had done this before him. The man was just too easy to read. And he knew for a fact that it hadn't been the case, why else would _this_ startle the poor boy so much? It made him smirk all the wider. When he'd gauged himself able to continue in a completely pedagogue role without the worries of sinking further in before it was time... he turned back to the bound man and crawled up to his side. "You've been nothing but a pain since the first time I met you Mustang. I didn't think much of you then, only how I could use you best as a lovely firework of mine. But now I know I should have paid more attention. You'd have been quite the entertainment back then, even as you are now."

"I'm not a toy Crimson." He didn't have any speeches. The sheer lack of options that he had right now was starting to get to him, and he was more intent on calming down before unwillingly yielding to the man's apparent wishes. He'd been tied up before, he was calm then, so why the hell was Kimblee affecting him so much now?

Kimblee chuckled humorlessly. "Ah but that is where you are wrong Mustang. I think you're a _perfect_ little plaything, and I seem to be having more fun with you like this than anyone should. Somehow, I thought you'd be honored." Dark humor suited him, but he doubted it suited the idiot before him. Just something to do, really it was. But this was turning into something more than that. He was enjoying toying with the man but knew he'd have to finish soon. He may have boasted about having all the time in the world, but that simply wasn't the case. He knew someone would eventually come looking for the colonel. He also needed to leave the city soon, otherwise someone might figure out he was still alive. The question was whether to let the pony live, or to put him out of his own misery.

Roy clenched his fists and took a deep breath, a twisted parody of a smile flitting over his face. He'd come to be rather fond of dark humor over the years. One had to when faced with the Elric boys regularly. "If you think of it that way, are you sure it shouldn't be the other way around?" He tested his leg bonds unhappily.

"Getting brave are we?" He asked gruffly while retrieving a small pocketknife from the inside pocket of his jacket. No more than a three-inch blade, and a total of six inches fully extended, the black and gray knife gleamed in the dim light. He moved the sharpened edge along the front of Mustang's uniform, slicing off the buttons one by one as it passed. It was relatively short work, but it was nice to see the man's reaction.

He pinned Kimblee with a narrowed-eyed glare, stilling with the presence of the knife so close to his skin. He couldn't get away from it, so he wasn't about to struggle and get cut by it on accident either. The glare told the man in no uncertain terms that he was not pleased.

Kimblee wasn't really paying attention to his victim's face, by far too entranced by his handy work. All the buttons were gone in a matter of seconds, so his knife sought entry underneath the blue fabric, finding a white shirt underneath. He pressed the tip lightly against the material and looked into Mustang's eyes. "I think white is such a boring color... don't you?"

"No, I'm rather fond of it." His tone was low, like he was trying to warn him off. He remained still, though, unwilling to get cut by the blade since it had already proven to be well sharpened. 

"You would be, wouldn't you? Me, on the other hand, well, I do not like anything so bland as white." He snorted as he looked down at the shirt underneath his own jacket. "And I'm being hypocritical, of course, but I think I have that right." He pulled the knife away and waggled it in the man's face. "I've got the weapon here. Mm, one that I find can help with that white shirt." With his free hand he spread open the folds of the colonel's jacket, smoothing it over the man's stomach. He could feel the taut muscles through the fabric, and he had dancing visions of how they would look bruised and bleeding. At this rate he was going to do something rash... but that would be okay.

He clenched and unclenched his hands a little, pressing himself flat against the floor in an effort to avoid the unwelcome attentions. "There _are_ different colors of white, if your eyes are keen enough."

"And not a one I care for." He nearly laughed aloud when he felt Mustang tense and try to meld with the floor. "Fear has many responses. Most easily recognized being the trembling and screaming that I'm sure everyone has experienced at some point in their lives. But there are also the more subtle ones that many overlook. For instance," He pressed his hand into the alchemist's stomach, doing his best to mock a perfectly warm massage. "the one you are under. It's very humorous to see you trying to be brave, it's very... _nice._ " 

Roy couldn't stop himself from drawing a breath quickly, seeking to avoid the added contact. He followed it with a glare, since he hadn't meant to do that. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"

Kimblee licked his bottom lip and continued working his hand along Mustang's stomach up towards his chest. When he got directly above the sternum, he pressed just enough to cause pain while looking into the man's eyes, giving his own cold glare. "Whatever makes you feel special... I'd like to think of it as a warning myself. But if you don't see what I mean, then no harm no foul."

The smaller man half closed his eyes against the pain, narrowing them. He was sensitive to certain types of pain, but that was a closely guarded secret, and he was going to keep it that way. His voice was a bit strained when he spoke. "Little attention as I paid before, I'm quite aware _now_."

"Ever observant are you now Mustang? Somehow I doubt that, considering your performance earlier. But it was to my advantage so big fucking deal." He put more weight into the pressing hand as he dragged himself to drape over the man's chest. "I've wasted enough time with chit chat Roy-boy. I think it's time to see just how long it will take..." 

Kimblee left the rest of his thought unsaid, instead opting to cover the younger man's mouth with his own, immediately forcing his tongue between the warm lips. Roy's reaction was to bite. Yes, he was more or less immobile, but he still had full control of his jaw and he wasn't loath to use it, even if he wasn't fond of the taste of blood. The reaction didn't cause the long-haired man to pull back right away as he just let the pain on his tongue linger. 

Kimblee’s fingers on the hand over Roy's chest found their way into the mess of raven hair and pulled hard to force the other man to open his mouth in a gasp. When he did, Kimblee moved his face further up to stare into the flame alchemist’s eyes. "Another mistake Mustang. I think I should punish you this time with something a bit more drastic." 

He didn't let the other man have a chance to catch his breath before he reached between the spread thighs and gripped his crotch area roughly. With a tightening squeeze, he ground his knuckles into the sensitive area just above the shaft. The reaction was priceless. Roy’s eyes widened, and he was astonishingly soundless, digging his nails into his palms as froze entirely in place. Of course, part of that might have been because he just flat out stopped breathing for a second there.

Kimblee was more than pleased with the reaction he received. Bending just slightly, he gave a nibbling kiss to the side of Roy's mouth. "Much better. But not what I was hoping for. I'll try harder next time." His dark smile returned as he removed some of the pressure from the man's groin and he slowly began to massage the pain-laced area.

His eyes went from wide to tightly shut as he drew a deep, uneven breath, still unable to move a muscle. That hurt very much, but he didn't want to give in to it. He knew himself after all, and giving into the pain was a _bad_ idea. 

He enjoyed the expressions he got from Mustang. They were perfect and all his own. He doubted anyone else had gotten these select few he'd witnessed. He pressed more of his mouth onto the younger man's and lapped lazily. It was intoxicating, the pain and fear wafting off his victim and that just served to make him want more. He was in far too deep to just leave it as he'd planned. The grip in Roy’s hair effectively stopped any chance of him turning his head, and the hand elsewhere left him with little real desire to retaliate as he had before, so the man just forced his eyes into a narrowed stare and hissed at him.

Kimblee ignored it, taking over Mustang's mouth again before he could make any more sounds like that. It was a brief kiss, almost chaste. Then he yanked hard on the hair in his grip, pulling Mustang's head back to its limits so he could attack the pale flesh of his neck, lips skirting the wound he'd made earlier. He was saving that sore spot for later. His hand moved along the sensitive area in slow massaging semicircles before he dragged his nails along one of the man's inner thighs. Roy's mantra at that point turned into one of not letting himself react, and he tried to shift his leg out of the horrible angle it had been put in. He'd almost made a sound that time, though what kind was uncertain.

_The fabric was simply getting in his way!_ The damned material was just muting his efforts at drawing out the needed noises he wanted from Mustang. That simply wouldn't do. He angrily nipped at the man's neck, trailing his tongue along the jugular, then down to the open front of the blue jacket, until his teeth grabbed upon the white undershirt. It didn't stop him though, he merely made his way back to the jugular. His free hand, though, had abandoned causing reckless pain along his thigh and sought out his knife again. 

Once the gleaming metal was in hand, he trailed the tip along the prone man's stomach again, moving lower and lower. Roy knew the cease of the assault couldn't be anything good, but when he felt the blade tracing over his clothes, he twitched a little, the tickling sensation being far out of place. The blade dipped between the meeting material of shirt and pant, turning and continuing it's journey until it was hilt deep under cloth. Kimblee smiled against the abused neck as he turned the blade cornerwise to start slicing into both fabric and flesh. He wanted to get rid of the restrictions in his way and he'd be damned if he did it the easy way. He was going to get what he wanted from Mustang, even if he had to slice him to ribbons.

Roy drew a sharp breath, closing his eyes tightly to prevent any further sound from escaping him. It would have been shocking if he wasn't digging his nails into his palms hard enough that it would start bleeding at some point, though he hadn't applied enough pressure to cause that yet. Kimblee’s fingers unwound from the raven tresses, giving Mustang a slight reprieve from the odd angle his head had been held in. It would work best to give the pony slight relief between the sessions of pain. He felt like ripping fistfuls but knew it wouldn’t give him the results he wanted. He wanted far more than just pitiful pain filled screams, but he was still working out just exactly he thought he would get out of this encounter other than the pure satisfaction of breaking the man's resolve. 

The release of his head caused him to relax, though he hadn't wanted to. It would just make the next set that much worse, and he knew it, but the reaction was automatic. He didn't even bother to try to pry his eyes open just yet though. He still felt the touch of blade on skin. He long-haired man’s lips softened on Mustang's neck as his tongue caressed the battered flesh. The knife was doing its job nicely, slicing fabric and cutting flesh as it worked its way along the zipper. It was a bit rough going, but once a large enough hole was evident, Kimblee withdrew the weapon, only trace it back along his victim's stomach. He worked his mouth upwards along the pale neck until he began to lap just under the man's chin, where he’d brought the blade point up to rest.

Roy cracked his eyes open a little, no longer able to keep his breath fully even as the fine cuts started to really burn on his skin. The blade was what made him be still instead of thrashing though. He wasn't going to let go of his defiance so easily, but he had no wish to die.

Kimblee left the knife resting against the hollow of Mustang's throat and pushed himself upwards. He crawled over the body to straddle the pinned man’s hips. Planting his hands on either side of his torso he grinned down at his handiwork. Red marred the normally fair skin everywhere he looked, and the bruise was becoming more pronounced against the man’s cheek. "Ah, come now Mustang," He breathed huskily, "not enjoying yourself?"

Roy glared a bit with that, lifting his chin away from the blade tip a bit so he could speak without the sharp metal pricking skin. "Are you under the misconception I should be?" It was only a murmur though, as he didn't care to accidentally stab himself. 

"Sarcasm is lost on the young." He mused, ignoring the question. He was amused at how careful Mustang was being around his knife. It was hilarious and all too tempting to plunge the tip into his throat. But that would end his fun too soon. Instead, he put leaned his weight onto his knees so he could slide his hands underneath the white shirt.

Roy hissed a little in reaction, the start of something that could have been a rather vocal protest, but was cut off with apparent determination. It wouldn't get him anywhere anyway. He managed an even voice, a cold one, to go with the glare. "I'm not that much younger than you."

"Details were never my strong suit Mustang," Kimblee nearly purred, pleased with his anger. He traced his fingertips along the smooth skin under the shirt, pulling it up as they went. Pale and nearly unmarked skin met his greedy eyes, causing something in the pit of his stomach to stir. He enjoyed the sight even more as he dragged the nails of one of his hands across Mustang's chest barely grazing a dark nipple in its wake.

Despite the fine layers of pain that were making his breath unstable, that action made his breath catch. He closed his eyes against it and forced himself to not react. He had to go and scratch him of all things. Of course. He was genuinely frightened he'd pick out those few weaknesses of his and blunt the pain. He wouldn't know how to manage himself under that kind of pressure, and he did his level best to keep from reacting. Unfortunately, the man knew him, if not this intimately, and his hopes were rather low of that actually _working_.

Even if he hadn't been a hardened observer from his years in the military service, or even his years incarcerated in the bowels of the damned lab, he would have noticed the subtle change in Mustang. It was very slight, but there none the less. It made him shudder with obvious desire to see his tactics finally garnering more than the typical reactions. Never did he expect that his ministrations would provide an insight into Mustang's character. This little quirk was worth exploring. He sank the nails of one of his hands into the man's side while the other made a trail across the chest once again.

Roy simply couldn't block that kind of pain out as effectively as the rest. It was starting to blur, and that was bad. He wanted to hang onto his resolve. Of course, that didn't stop a tiny high whine from getting past the stranglehold he was holding on himself. Kimblee repeated the action again, this time at a slower pace. His smile held none of the warmth that it promised. "I don't understand why you fight me Mustang." He dipped his head to steal a surprisingly soft kiss. It was light and airy, with small nibbles at the edges for taste. "We both know that you won't be winning this battle."

He really had no answer for that, and his breathing was turning ragged. There hadn't been another of those sounds, but it was clear that it was picking through the resolve he'd locked onto himself. At least it was the one thing only. He could recover from that. He managed to make his comeback not sound as panicked as he felt, fortunately. "Don't understand? Unfortunate that." He cracked his eyes open just far enough to peer through his lashes, hiding his eyes with the look.

The long-haired alchemist sneered at the prone man, but didn't lash out verbally like he normally would have. His mouth resumed nibbling at Mustang's while his hands danced along the semi-bare chest in a flourish of teasing caresses. This game of his was working far better than he had hoped, but he himself was losing his hard earned resolve. Willing or not, Mustang was in for a _very_ bad, or good, experience, depending on Kimblee's mood at the time.

Roy pretty much decided his best tactic at this point was to simply not respond. That worked for all of a second, because the shift to Kimblee being gentle left him almost instantly frazzled. He didn't like the implications of it. He especially didn't like that the gentleness was jarring him enough that a muted whimper actually got away from him before he realized he was going to do it.

Kimblee squeezed his eyes in a pleasant growl of satisfaction. It wasn't exactly the type of noises he was specifically looking for, but it was fast becoming more preferable. A screaming Mustang couldn't compare to a whimpering one... Maybe even a _moaning_ one. That fleeting thought almost had him chuckling in delight. Time would tell, and like he’d told the small man, he had it in spades. A palm warmed against a nipple and massaged slowly, letting the other rub along a chilled side as he contemplated his next move. He wanted so much so fast, but he refused to waste this moment. It was just too much fun.

Roy's eyes flickered fully open for a moment, and he clenched his teeth as to not make another noise. His gaze was a mix of pain, fear, defiance, and even the creeping hint of want. He swept his eyes near closed again quickly, muscles tensed to the point where he'd start to tremble if he didn't relax. He didn't like having to fight Kimblee and himself. If Kimblee would just resume hurting him, then he'd be fine, if he could be sure that the line hadn't blurred too much.

Kimblee moved himself from straddling the fellow alchemist to resting himself between the man's thighs. In that position he could effectively move his teasing nips down the throat and onto the exposed chest. He found that he enjoyed the taste of Mustang's skin as he made a path down the line of his body, veering slightly to graze just above the left nipple. It tasted of dried sweat, what he assumed to be subtle hints of his office atmosphere, and something that reminded him of books and age. It was intoxicating because it was Mustang's own. It probably would all be gone with a good shower but he enjoyed it now, to hell if it wasn't the _real_ essence of the man. 

Much as he had when Kimblee had up and bitten him in the first place, he stilled almost entirely at the feel of teeth on his skin. It was a reaction he'd picked up somewhere along the way that wasn't really helping him at the moment since the fraction more had set off the fine tremble that had been lurking in the background.

Fine beads of perspiration dotted along Kimblee's hairline from all the activity. It hadn't been particularly warm that night, and most of the earlier fighting wasn't enough to work up much of a sweat, but the sheer proximity with another warm body as well as his own growing desire managed to take care of the lack of heat surrounding them. He knew his own body was working twice as fast, pumping more blood through his veins in his heightened state of arousal. And he nearly chuckled when his mind let him know that he was still in the early stages at that. But he wasn't as interested in his own body's reactions as he was Mustang's. He didn't miss the soft tremors fluttering under his tongue and touch. He quite enjoyed those and blamed them for the rather uncomfortable constriction of his clothes. It was still too soon though... he almost didn't care.

Roy snapped out of his stillness with the pause, a low growl escaping him as he twitched away from Kimblee, upwards with a jerk of his chin. He outright ignored the slight cut the blade left on the side of his neck as his sudden action sent it to skitter onto the tile. Kimblee didn't still his exploration of taste and touch just because his prey wasn't being all too cooperative, no, he stopped because he felt the man flinch. Normally he wouldn't give two hairs about it, but since he wasn't doing anything to constitute a flinch, he paused and looked upwards. His smirk returned when he saw the slight nick, and traveled the small distance back to the throat to give it an experimental lick. "Really Mustang, if I'd known you wanted another "war" wound, I would have been happy to provide it." His voice was a husky purr as he licked the area again.

Oh and that _stung_ like a bitch. But not in an entirely bad way. Roy could feel himself slipping on the spiral. He twisted away with another growl, his own voice unreliable at this point as his breathing wasn't level anymore. He chanced it anyway, swallowing to make it as clear and steady as possible. "I'm sure."

Kimblee made a small rumbling sound against the man's throat that could have been a laugh, but it was by far too garbled. He ignored what Mustang had muttered at him, more intent to elicit something far more pleasing to his ears. It wasn't to soon after his lips left his neck that they found their way back down the man's chest... then lower. He sat up slightly to toy with the slit in the fabric of Mustang's pants where he'd sliced them earlier. He grinned more to himself as he slid a finger along the frayed edges, ripping them little by little with each pass.

That little sequence of actions led to a futile jerk at his bonds, because he very much wanted to keep himself covered. He wasn't sure how much more stimulation he could handle before he had to let something give. The muted growl returned and he glared at his tormentor as he came up short. He was _very_ unhappy to be reminded that he was tied up when he came up short. 

Kimblee idled mentally as he looked over the prone figure splayed out below him. He couldn't help but feel a small swelling of pride in his work and in the choices that led them to this point. It was like looking at some work of art and coming back with a greater understanding of what it truly was. Of course, he was no artist, nor did he ever deign to be, but it was just a particular feeling. It was also better than delving into the wrongs of just what he was getting himself into. He had choices up until this point, he could have just killed the man and gotten it over with, but somewhere along the way he'd gotten drawn into his own little game. It was just supposed to be that, a game, not this. Not something he was now aching to finish. He cursed his weaknesses and fully blamed his victim, though he couldn't really reason out how it could be the colonel's fault. But blame him he did. He had to look away from the pale skin to regain some form of composure and what he saw next caused him to chuckle. 

"Well Mustang, seems I've a new idea for you. This has been fun, but I find myself itching for something a little less tame." He didn't bother explaining what he was thinking, just got to his feet slowly and ambled over to the counter.

Roy let his eyes flutter fully open, twisting his head to watch Kimblee's actions. At the very least, he wouldn't be caught off guard. Not that his guard was all that solid anymore. He took the chance to calm down his breathing and his nerves. He didn't trust the other man not to come up with something truly jarring.

He bent over the counter and began to rummage through the items he'd seen littering the surface, pulling a few of them into a small pile before him. He made sure to keep his body in the way of Mustang's line of vision. He knew the man would watch him. "It’s amazing what people have just laying about." His voice was just barely above a whisper. Some of the contents were poured onto the counter's surface and mixed together. It all had taken just a few moments, and soon he was trotting his way back to the man's side. He cradled a small substance in a palm, being careful not to upset it as he got to his knees. "You being the Flame Alchemist," He began softly but there was no denying the malicious edge to his voice, "I'm sure you've been burnt a few times. Funny when you think about it." He began to smooth what was in his palm along Mustang's legs. "Because what kind of Alchemist would you be to be burned by your own element?"

Roy didn't know what was being put on his clothing, but whatever it was couldn't very well be something good if it had Kimblee so excited. He had managed to calm to an extent, taking the small reprieve to shove all unwanted sensations back, so only a keen wariness and slight fear showed with his defiance now. "One who knows it well."

Kimblee wasn't phased by the retort, he'd expected it. "Oh good. I was half expecting you to be an arrogant arse and deny you'd ever been burnt. But we both know that isn't the case." He took the last of the mixture and took agonizingly slow pains in "massaging" it around the man's groin and inner thighs. "I remember the war, as I'm sure you do as well. We both know how _badly_ it felt to be burned. Not by the flames of course."

"You like blowing things up too damn much." It was a dark mutter, and he couldn't believe he'd actually said it aloud, but he had, and now he felt rather like he should have kept his mouth shut. He kept the thought off his face.

"Of course I do, why the hell else do you think I was lead during so many of those damned raids? What, thought it was because of my charming personality and my thirst for being number one?!" He scoffed halfheartedly, letting the poor man have his moment. "But yes... very much. It's like being God in a way. I decide who lives or dies by the flick of my hands. Rather powerful drug that I've gotten addicted to. I'm not ashamed to admit that either." He traced the untainted hand over Roy's stomach in a teasing caress. "Why can't you admit that to yourself as well then I wonder? We both know what a rush you get from your alchemy. I've seen the hunger in your eyes as you watch the flames dance. Why, then, have you never allowed yourself to give in?"

"I don't enjoy destruction." It was a growl, and he couldn't believe he was answering at all. He remembered this argument. Kimblee had always dragged him along as his second, said the fire was pretty... He didn't want to agree with him then, and he certainly didn't now. Not when he had so little control of the events already.

"No, I don't image you do. That's my department after all. You enjoy something else Mustang." He slid the unoccupied hand down the opposite leg and activated his choice of alchemy, making sure the reaction would be small and controlled. "You crave the feeling of power surging through you when you snap your fingers. You may not enjoy the destruction, but you don't deny it either. You let it happen all around you and were by my side as I cleared the way. Don't kid yourself Mustang, you're no better than I am."

So many replies to that flickered through his mind, but none of them seemed appropriate, too out of place, too revealing... far too much of an agreement. His eyes had to flicker away before returning to Kimblee. And what came out of his mouth wasn't at all what he'd decided on. "You were unnerving then, and you are now, what else was I supposed to do?" And he sounded... mad.

It was the first time, in a very long time, that Kimblee's laugh wasn't forced, instead being true. Surprisingly, it was light and warm, almost soft. He shook his head and smiled down at the man in denial. "Why be upset with me? There was plenty to _do_ Mustang, you just chose not to see the other possibilities. You let yourself be governed by everything else and thus you've ended up being what you are now. My plaything." Well, it was more or less the truth. It was a very drastic simplification of the events and people that shaped Roy Mustang into what he was today. But Kimblee preferred his role in the development. He fancied himself as some paragon in the thick of it, but that was purely for his fantastic version of reality. He enjoyed that one the best though. In the end, it did boil down to him being the one in control of Roy's life at hand. So it, more or less, was the truth. In his personal opinion.

He couldn't say he had never had a wish to die, because that simply wasn't true. He had had a death wish on more than one occasion during the war, so that couldn't be used in his defense. It would be too easily shaken. He didn't like the view Kimblee had taken though, and he shook his head a little. "I'm not."

"Oh?" He wasn't all that interested in the answer. He was having too much fun pressing the man into unfamiliar and unwanted territory. Meanwhile, he wasn't interested in whatever garbage that at came from the man's mouth, he could get the real answers from his body instead. Which he fully intended to do, all he had to do was convince that keen mind that Roy was so fond of into obeying itself and bending to his touch. "I think you're doing a perfect imitation then because I'm enjoying _playing_ with you." He laughed as the first of several small flares began to snake up the fabric of the blue pants. He turned his head to watch the coursing blue-green flames that danced for a few seconds before snuffing out.

Roy had had a feeling... but he'd forgotten somewhere along the way that Kimblee would be as delicate with his fireworks as he was harsh. The brief heat was enough to almost burn along his skin, and he couldn't help a little whimper. The bastard was using fire on him when he was like _this_ and that was just completely wrong of him. Fire was his element, damn it, he was close to it, and he had no doubt the bastard remembered that.

Roy's mutterings were annoying but worth the results in the end, the small whimpers were like music to his ears. He didn't turn to look at the man though he desperately wanted to see the pain in those dark eyes. He took to sweeping his fingers through the ash and cloth left littering the legs instead. The red glared brilliantly against the waxen olive flesh. It was, in a word, beautiful. But that wasn't his style, so he merely categorized it as pleasing to the eye and touched them with great care. "Really enjoying I should say."

He tightened his hands into fists and closed his eyes on another whimpering noise. He had to remind himself not to react, that he couldn't afford to react, chanting it to himself. That was his new focus, as he had to let something go, so he didn't fight as hard to keep quiet. He wanted to, but he had priorities here.

"Mmm, does that hurt Mustang?" He asked quietly pressing firmly onto a particularly bright patch of red. Of course he knew it hurt, but he wanted to hear the pained answer and keep those delicious whimpers pushing forth. 

Roy drew in a deep breath, refusing to open his eyes as he rather unhappily gave into the silent request. He didn't want that to feel good, and he'd keep the _pain_ pain, even if it knocked him out!

"Refusing to answer now? That's a shame but I think I can manage to get over it. Especially," He changed his position to run his hands along the singed edges of the pants, ripping the tattered remains easily enough. "When I have other ways of getting what I want."

Roy cracked his eyes open, the rush of cold air wholly unwelcome. He was practically naked! He didn't like it at all! He took a couple deep breaths in an effort to quell the rise of panic.

_Good. Let the bastard be cold_ , he thought idly taking the time to take one of the last few items of _clothing_ from the man. The boots weren't really needed anyway and would only get in his way. The last thing the man truly had left was those non-specific grayish boxers, and soon enough even those wouldn't be in his way. Something flitted across his face, he refused to acknowledge as lust… but it was close enough. He ran his palm up the burned leg and didn't stop until it was firmly on the man's hip, only then did he turn back to smile down. "Of course, I wouldn't be opposed to verbal comment. It's more fuel for the _fire_ "

He turned his face away, not even rewarding him by showing the bruised cheek more fully as he glared darkly, jaw clenched and hands tightly fisted. He ignored the words as much as possible, taking deep, measured breaths.

"Bravado doesn't do you any good with me, kid." What was a little insult to injury after all? He wanted Mustang mad, he wanted him fuming. It would make this all the more sweet once he had him where he wanted. And it wasn't going to be long for that to happen. Kimblee curled his fingers around the brim of the material, slowly dragging it downwards. His first reward was seeing the otherwise smooth and lustrous skin marred by a faint jagged scar, his second was the hiss he received for the efforts.

Roy flicked his eyes back to Kimblee as his air left him in a rush. He had better not ask about that. The man didn't know how he'd gotten it and he didn't want him to find out. He twisted a little, wanting to keep that mark private. The glare he gave the other man was positively venomous. Well, at least the panic was receding in the face of the anger. He so rarely felt anger. He couldn’t let it run away with him with his element, it would eat him alive.

Kimblee was good at ignoring certain things, and Roy's glare just happened to me one of them. Well, any glare really. He didn't take them to heart because more often than not, the one doing the glaring would be nothing more than stains soon afterward. So he missed any intent the look was supposed to convey as he let his eyes drink in the sight. The fabric had since stopped being moved downwards because it seemed all that he was focusing on was that scar. He hated not knowing, and he also knew that it would almost be futile to ask, but he wanted to know. "I see we've picked up a war wound along the way... do tell me Mustang, get adventures and one of your little girls say no?"

"No." The word was flat, though not quite toneless. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, watching Kimblee as he fought back the undercurrent of anger that had crept up on him. He couldn't afford to be angry.

Kimblee arched a brow. "No? Well, elaborate, or should I come up with some other fantastic idea?" He smirked down at the anger he seen crossing the normally calm exterior. This is what he wanted, to ruffle Mustang's cool facade and get at what he knew was truly underneath. Though, before he could get at that he needed the man to vent, to draw out of that shell he purposefully placed himself in. He was going to have fun with the process... gawds he loved messing with the norms.

"Go ahead, it's not as though you'd get it correct." Again he spoke in an almost flat tone, relaxing his clenched hands a bit with a soft exhale. He would defend his secrets. Especially this one from _him_ of all people.

"Awww, am I hitting a nerve Mustang?" He leaned over the exposed chest to smirk into the man's face. "Why not tell me? Or is it some sordid secret that you've squirreled away from polite society? I'm not polite society after all." 

This time when he growled, there was a genuine threat in there. It wasn't defensive, it was a warning that he'd bite him given the opportunity. The glare only added to the effect. He didn't like the fact that Kimblee could make him react at all. "It's none of your business."

"Might not be but I'm asking all the same. But no matter, you don't have to tell me anything. I'll eventually get it out of you or someone else." He said lazily and sat back up to resume taking those slinky little boxers off. Alright, so they weren’t slinky in any way, just some regulation type issue underwear that seemed to fit the colonel's personality. So formal and unassuming. He drifted the material slowly downward and lifted Roy's hips to slide it all the way off.

Roy twisted his wrists a little, knowing it was futile to try and get loose, but he was compelled to try anyway. He was exposed to a complete sadist. It was one of those things that tended to provide a person with ample incentive to get out of a situation. "So you think." He was the only one alive that knew how he really got that. 

The boxers were presenting a small problem, well not a problem per say but they wouldn't be able to go down further since he'd pinned Mustang's legs at a painful angle. His only other option was to either cut them off, which he was leaning towards, or go back to the counter for more of his lovely concoction. "What I think and what I _know_ are closely related in this situation Mustang. Try to remember that I have more than one way of getting information." He commented as he made his way back to the counter, tossing his braid over his shoulder with a shrugging motion. Roy was being defiant again; he'd have to stamp that out quickly.

Roy gritted his teeth a little and tipped his head, following him with the glare. It made his eyes go from near black to pitch. His defiance was rekindling, but he really didn't care anymore, for the moment he was satisfied that he knew something that Kimblee wouldn't.

It had been an idle curiosity about the fellow alchemist, his eating habits that were. _Why?_ He didn't honestly know, but for some reason he wondered about them. The kitchen looked barely in use, and the poor boy was a bit on the thin side. But that was hypocritical because he wasn't exactly a healthy weight either. Of course, his could be explained away by his constant activity during the war and well after it, and during the laboratory... well, that was best just left to be wondered about rather than actually giving his time in that hell hole credence. The musing, however, was sparked by the lone thin, stoppered, practically full, glass container of olive oil sitting just to the left of the stove. He palmed it and a small portion of the needed ingredients before heading back to the bound figure.

Roy watched him unwaveringly, twisting as much as he could to follow his movements in silence. He didn't want to find out what the man was planning. He didn't want to be tied down. And he sure and the hell didn’t want the knowledge that him being in this position was totally and utterly his own fault. So he _glared_ , ire near the surface.

Kimblee spread the mixture evenly on either side of Mustang's outer thighs along the length of the fabric. He activated the timed charge and sat back, fingering the glass surface of the container as he watched the blue-green flames consume the material in a matter of seconds. A lopsided grin graced his lips as the remains fluttered to the floor. "Another nice addition to the prattling pattern I'm making. These go very well with the ones on your legs... bet they sting by now."

Only now he _wasn't_ glaring at him anymore, having closed his eyes tightly against the burn on his skin. He didn't see the expression because of that. He had to answer though, he was just itching to reply. "You've been burned before, shouldn't you know?" He pried his eyes open, quelling his body before it could really react, though his voice was barely audible.

“Mmm, yes. But then again _you_ should know that." His voice was a dangerous purr as he resettled himself between the man's thighs. He stared down into the face he'd been obsessing over since he was sentenced to death and found it not unlike he remembered. Upset, angry, worried, and a bit scruffy. It was like taking a step back in time to just before the war ended, to the day he first tasted those lips. He'd pulled Mustang to him that night, pressed into him for more than just the contact and fed on his surprised and yet willing mouth. It had been rushed and sloppy, but it had tasted wonderful. The ash and blood mingled in their mouths and for a brief moment Kimblee thought time had stopped... but it was over in the blink of an eye and before he knew it he had been captured and sentenced to death. Yet he remembered Mustang and that brief encounter, and had wondered what would have happened if the wall hadn't crumbled behind their backs. It was a fantasy he enjoyed having, but reality was better, and that's where he returned with a laugh. "You were the one to burn me the worst, but I don't think you quite remember that. This is just merely allowing me to return the favor."

A distinct mark of confusion crossed his face then, chasing away some of the determination with flat out bewilderment. He had not idea what the hell was the man talking about now. He certainly wasn't talking about real flames anymore at the very least, and that left Roy floundering.

He made a pained expression that was completely ruined by the devious smirk that refused to mold with the mask. "I'm crushed, truly crushed you don't remember. Come, my little pony, think real hard." He leaned forward and tapped Mustang's forehead none too gently. "Think back to just before I was taken into custody, something of which I blame you for by the way, remember the gutted shelter and falling timbers. I especially love the thought of that _particular_ wall crashing down and the distinct feeling of heat that had nothing to do with us being against it at the time. Pity that, wish it had been. I was quite fond of that moment." He sighed at the memory then glared harshly into the black pits below him. "That was quick thinking, bringing the wall down with your alchemy. But a simple "no" would have sufficed."

"You never did take rejection well." He remembered what he was talking about _now_ alright. There was no way he could _not_ know now that it had been pointed out. The only kiss he'd ever gotten from a guy had been from the jerk who had him tied to the floor at the moment. He hadn't really thought a simple _no_ would have been adequate at the time. Besides... he'd panicked a little.

"No, I don't suppose I did. But I wasn't going to blow your head off if you had said no. Contrary to popular belief I wasn't prone to blowing people up for disagreeing with me. If that had been the case I doubt I would have made it through training." He scoffed, only half remembering what had been said about him all those years ago. So what if he portrayed himself as insane... it was easier to deal with people if they were too afraid to talk to you. Then again it made some _things_ worse, like dating. But he hadn’t been worried about that during the war. Of course, he had been a bit rash in his youth and pinning some guy, even if he was a fellow soldier whom you thought would have been a great lay, to a wall and shoving his tongue in his mouth... heh, yes rash, but very satisfying.

"I've been told repeatedly I should think before acting." He couldn't really hold his gaze, his own flitting down and aside a little. It hadn’t been because it hadn't occurred to him to just say no, he'd just reacted. Like when he'd decided to be clever and try to fry someone in the middle of a rainstorm. This time, he'd gotten himself into a mess for not thinking _or_ acting. _Idiot._

"Never was a strong suit of yours, but you have a mind when it counts. For the most part." He'd had quite enough of playing nice and strolling down memory lane. Its only purpose was to remind both himself and Mustang of the stupidity of youth and yet it left his mind to dredge up the unhappy portion of years he'd thought he buried. Another pain he would have to _thank_ the alchemist for. Kimblee's hands skimmed over Roy's bare inner thighs in feather light caresses and leaned forward. "I don't believe that will be a problem for much longer."

He shivered a little at the touch, dark eyes flicking back to gold. There was one thing he'd always believed about Kimblee, he only acted insane because people expected him to be insane. He wondered why he was thinking about that _now_ and batted the thought aside, remembering that he wanted to know something. "What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly how it sounds, you're not so dense as to not understand that are you?" He moved his hands crept upward while he asked, ghosting on the area just on either side of the man's groin. "I doubt you'll be able to do much thinking with what I have in mind. I can just imagine what would be floating through your head though... something along the lines of 'this is all my fault'."

He wanted very much to squirm away from that touch, maybe even just up and run away, but he was trapped in place, unable to go anywhere. What Kimblee was so clearly implying... well, it downright scared him, and he closed his eyes against the rising need to do just about anything to get loose. It irked him though that the light touches were settling his nerves even through that sensation. 

"Dealing with reality yet? Or still happily delusional?" He purred huskily and kneaded the sensitive flesh before he wrapped a hand around the semi-flaccid shaft. This entire evening was shaping up to be something Kimblee would treasure in the wee hours of his life. No, he didn't have the illusion of living much longer, maybe a few years, but he knew the dogged determination the military had. Right now, though, all he was worrying with was enjoying the moment.

Roy made a noise of protest in the back of his throat, eyes opening again to show a very mixed and wide range of emotions. All it really indicated was that the man really didn't know how he should be feeling about what was happening to him. It was harder for him to make it into a bad thing if it felt good. Then something that was really as much an insight to himself as was to Kimblee made it's way past his lips. "I don't do reality."

"Funny, it seems reality is about to _do_ you." It was hard to say if he was more amused by the man's admission or his colorful play on the statement. He could be corny when he wanted and this was clearly a time for it. Even if it was just for his own twisted benefit. He moved his hand along the length, mentally counting the time it would take him to get the man beyond flustered. When it happened he would take what he wanted. Though, he had doubts that he'd be able to wait that long.

"It's left me alone so far, it can keep doing that." Roy shifted a little, voice getting a little husky, but he still seemed to be firmly denying himself. He also wouldn't look the man in the eyes anymore, he simply couldn't. He was running out of ways to keep himself from reacting, but he kept trying.

" _It_ could but I won't." He licked his lips at the man's posturing. He wouldn't look at him. Even though that was a clear sign of defeat in anyone else's book it wasn't enough for Kimblee. He wanted to see it clearly written in those glossy black eyes as he slammed himself into the arrogant bastard. "You should stop denying yourself the simple pleasures in life Roy."

"Trying to intrigue me into giving the idea a fair chance?" He flicked his eyes to gauge Kimblee's expression, taking a shuddery breath as he reigned himself in. Now the man was dealing just in something like pleasure, he could handle that. No combining the two and he'd be fine.

"I don't believe I gave you a choice in the matter." With that said, he released the shaft and moved upwards to claim the man's mouth. He anchored Mustang's head with both hands and pressed his tongue past his lips into the warm area beyond. He lightly began to caress Roy's temples in an effort to calm himself down. It wasn't working for the simple reason that the taste was driving him mad. 

Roy didn't bite him this time, and he'd swallowed away most of the blood that had lingered in his mouth from before. He made a little sound in the back of his throat, eyes flicking closed as he unwillingly relaxed into it. The man was being far too _nice_.

Kimblee pulled back slightly, nibbling on the man's lower lip. "Much better." He licked at both lips before raising up and palming the olive oil he'd picked up earlier. This would probably confuse the poor boy more than his being gentle, but he didn't care. His need was growing with each passing moment, and he wouldn't deny himself this one victory. He shivered with the idea of Roy writhing beneath his touch and moaning out. His clothes were by far too tight now. Something he would alleviate soon. For now, he poured a small amount onto the exposed stomach and massaged it into the skin while he took his mouth again.

Roy hadn't expected that in the least, and he startled a little. He felt his resolve rapidly leaving him as he was... petted for lack of a better term. He didn't know if Kimblee had a motive behind the oil, but it wasn't as though it mattered if he did, what could he do about it? He didn't return the kiss though, still resisting in that small way. It was more a tremor of tension though. He didn't know what to expect after all.

He couldn't help but shake his head slightly at his little toy, as he'd started to refer to him within his mind. It had just struck him that Roy was a complete and total virgin when it came to _this_. Sure, the boy was quite the lady's man, and it'll always be like that... but for some reason Kimblee thought that little kiss wasn't his first from a man. Wow, that was a shock and delight rolled into one nice package. "Seems I get the first of everything from you." He whispered pulling away from Roy's mouth to nibble just under his chin.

That firmly quashed any and all doubts as to what Kimblee's intentions were and he turned his head in a far muted protest from the ones he'd been putting up at the start of this little encounter. "No need to put it like that." Apparently, he could still growl.

"And just," Kiss, "how," nibble, "would you _like_ ," he moved his oiled hand back between them to slide along Roy' shaft, "me to put it? It's the truth isn't it?" He was beyond entertained with the idea of taking something that was far more valuable to Roy than his freedom. "And if it isn't... well we'll soon find out now won't we?"

Roy clenched and unclenched his fists where they were pinioned above his head, drawing a sharp breath at the resumed touch. He didn't like that he could almost _feel_ his resistance crumbling. "Just don't say it that way."

"Feeling sentimental about it or something? Or just don't like being reminded exactly what's happening?" Kimblee's laugh was harsh against the man's ear. "You really are an idiot but _fun_ to play with. Too bad it will only be for a short while more. I have other things to do after all." He sat up and released Mustang again. This time, so he could unbutton his own pants and slide them down his hips. He didn't go in for the underwear bit, felt it was too constricting. With a smirk, he leaned back over the prone man and resumed his teasing.

Roy shivered under his hands, but managed to reign in the oncoming panic before it could really affect him. He was only a bit subdued, _not_ broken. He wouldn't let himself fall apart.

Kimblee took his oiled hand and began to stroke his hardened member. It felt good, and he had to bite down on Mustang's neck to keep from groaning out just how much he enjoyed the sensation. It had been mildly frustrating to keep up the banter, not to mention grooming the man to this point, but it had been worth the effort. Things were just too simple and _sweet_ for his tastes though. This wasn't going to last. Besides, he needed to hear Mustang scream after all. He lapped at the new bite on the battered neck and positioned himself just at the man's entrance. 

Roy ignored the tremble that had been inching up his body from his stressed legs and pulled away a bit, the bite having already unraveled a chunk of his remaining willpower. Stupid reactions entirely ruined things. He wasn't about to just let Kimblee _have_ him though. 

Kimblee lifted the man's unwilling hips slightly and moved closer until the tip of his shaft pressed against the opening. He tried to keep himself in control of the moment, but the will to do so was fading with the surge of want and need coursing through his veins. This was going to be rough, fast, and very satisfying to him alone, so he wanted it to last as long as possible. In a small, very small, way he felt sorry for Roy Mustang, but quickly pushed it aside with his next cruelly spoken words. "This will hurt you far more than it will me Mustang. Hope you enjoy the ride." The grunt that slipped from his lips as he shoved himself inside was both of pleasure and of pain. This is the price he was willing to pay for not preparing the alchemist. The tightness was both a welcome and uncomfortable, but after a moment to compose himself it was getting better.

Roy bit his lip, eyes closing tightly as he tried to ward off the wave of complete agony the actions slammed him with. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to ward off the sensation through distraction. It was no good, and he realized rather abruptly that he was whimpering in a rather pitiful manner, but it hurt too much for him to really care.

A few more shallow breaths gave Kimblee all he needed to steady himself. _I was right, I am was the man's first._ His mind laughed as he began to pull out. _Poor thing must be in so much pain... fucking bastard deserves it._ He pushed himself back in slowly, trying to draw out those wonderful whimpers and possibly gain new ones. Kimblee figured any faster and the pain alone would send Mustang into the abyss, and he couldn’t have that. No, he was going to make sure the alchemist would be awake until he was good and done.

After he had a second to get past the initial agony, he was able to open his eyes, breaths shallow and rapid as he tried to get past the pain to at least elsewhere in his head. A keen escaped him when Kimblee moved, and he arched his back, trying to keep the other man from hitting him with that _pain_ again. Why would anyone want to do this willingly? He simply couldn't comprehend it.

"Still don't do reality?" Kimblee asked on another slow thrust, gripping the quivering hips tightly. He had thought he was through with baiting the man earlier, but the opportunity to throw the man's own words back at him was too ripe. Besides, if he was going to do it, he might as well get it in while the sensations were still too fresh to completely engulf him in their wake.

A shudder ran over the smaller figure with the words, and it was clear he wasn't so lost in the pain that he wasn't still aware of everything else. The only place he could go inside was his alchemy, and he couldn't go there unless he was able to do it. At the moment, he wasn't. He strained at his bindings, pulling futilely at his hands as he tried to get out of Kimblee’s grip. If he hadn't been so damn stupid, this wouldn't have happened... He turned his head aside, drawing ragged breaths. He wouldn't cry, he would not.

It was hard for him to moderate his movements when all he wanted was to forget reason and give into the sensations. He knew, though, that if he did he would go over the edge too soon. Kimblee refused to let that happen. This was meant as a treat, not some random encounter. Mustang was special, he was meant to be savored. Maybe he was being sentimental to himself, but he was beginning to think this is how it could have been back then, only with a more than willing partner. Not that he cared that he was taking what he wanted... he didn't care about anyone but himself after all.

The simple fact that his frenzy of movement had been utterly ineffective made him stop, eyes blinking against the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes. No crying allowed. He couldn't stop the torrent of little pained noises that were escaping him, so he harshly kept himself from crying. If that was all he could manage, that's what he'd do. He quit struggling.

Kimblee had fed hungrily on the pitiful attempts to get away. The struggling of any victim had always excited him but with Roy's they seemed to awaken something deeper within himself. Something feral and wanting. It was all too much and not enough at the same time. He wanted to possess whatever it was that made up Mustang's being, to control it. It only fueled him more to possess the man fully when the struggling ceased. It made him toss his barriers aside and push into the tight entrance all the harder. He ground against the man's hips in his faster thrust, nearly panting with the effort.

Roy shivered under the onslaught, the black of unconsciousness lingering just beyond his reach. He hated how pain wouldn't make him pass out. It would have spared him so many horrors. He'd never dealt with anything like this before though. He was being forcibly taken by the only person who could well and truly influence him... and he couldn't handle it. It was his own stupidity that brought him here after all, he should be able to deal with it. A dry sob hitched in his throat. _No tears, no tears now._

Oh, how he wished those bonds would let him position his little toy. He wanted him bent over and yielding to him. That image alone managed to rip a groan from his throat. He'd forgotten how good it felt to take what he wanted from some unwilling bitch or bastard whenever he felt the need rise. It took him back to the war and before. How he had his fun in those days. And yet he never got the chance to have his way with Mustang then, the bastard effectively stopped that and had gotten him captured. He bent over the man, pressing his palms underneath the ashen thighs pushing them slightly higher so each slam he made hit deeper.

The combination of the new strain, and a sudden, utterly unwelcome shot of pleasure, combined to crumble the last of his defense. How the hell could anything about what the man was doing feel good? It hurt like hell, in fact, burning along most of his nerves... The tears he'd been trying so hard to contain finally broke free. He kept his face turned aside, but his position wasn't letting him hide a damn thing.

"Oh?! I see you liked that." Kimblee grunted out through the haze of pure ecstasy he was experiencing. He pounded himself over and over into the newly willing body, prolonging his circling climax. He was so close and the sight of those lovely tears leaking from underneath those surprisingly thick lashes... it was all too much.

He couldn't react properly to what was happening anymore. It hurt and felt good, he was afraid, but accepting at the same time... He opened his eyes with the comment though, glancing briefly to him only to be caught in almost fascination. Of course, that didn't stop his other actions from continuing.

"So... fucking tight!" _Damn the man, damn him to the deepest wells of hell._ Kimblee was doomed from the beginning of this encounter and he was just now realizing it. How the fuck did he let himself be drawn into his own game? It was all Mustang's fault, everything was! But he'd be damned if he didn’t enjoy every moment. He could feel the muscles contract around his shaft as he continued rocking into the man. He was moaning out with each plunge forward, a telltale sign he was about to come, but he was going to relish each second until he flooded the man's entrance.

Despite the fact that his body was doing its damndest to betray him, he ignored it, letting his body do whatever it was going to. The tears were a bit annoying, and the pain and pleasure were distracting, but he watched, suddenly realizing that whatever else, Kimblee wasn't unaffected by all this either. It certainly didn't make him blame himself any less, but it made him feel better.

He bent further over Roy's chest, panting heavily with his need. It wasn’t very long now, and he wanted to watch the man's face when he came into him. He wanted to see what those eyes would show him. Would he still see that arrogant defiance, or would they finally show the pained resignation he was wanting from the beginning? It was all he was craving when the familiar tensing became apparent. He dug his nails into the man's thighs, smiling down at the ashen face in hazed lust.

Roy snapped back into the moment as he felt the rush of heat inside his body, and he whimpered, both gratified to have caused the other man pleasure and completely appalled at himself for feeling that way. The first was much stronger than the latter. _If he had no choice, then at least he'd done well._

Kimblee didn't stop thrusting until he had felt the last of his seed empty into the man. Releasing the slightly bloodied thighs, he planted his hands on either side of the exposed torso. The alchemist made such wonderful little noises and the whimper that welcomed him was like music to his ears. He didn't make a move to disconnect himself from Roy's body, instead leaving himself deep within the warm confines. Kimblee moved himself just slightly so he could reach at the pale battered neck, giving it a light suck before purring into Mustang's ear. "That was good Mustang, very good. I haven't had a feeling like that in a very long time. You should be pleased with the result." He again kissed the man's neck, trying to regain his composure.

Roy closed his eyes, turning his head a fraction. It wasn't a defiant action anymore, but as there was no going anywhere... It was more like an offer. Since Kimblee wasn't moving anymore, the pain was easing a bit, but he couldn't drag any of his shards of self-defense back up.

A soft palm was against the turned cheek where light fingers were brushing at the tears. Kimblee would have smiled devilishly at the involuntary admission he was given, but instead he kissed the bruised cheek almost tenderly. "Where's the retort Mustang? Finally have nothing to say to me?" This was more than satisfying but somehow he wanted more. 

He took a deep breath, then let it out in a shuddery whimper. He swallowed a couple times before summoning up a wobbly whisper, eyes flicking back to the man on him and in him. He'd never been interested in that before, he hadn't! "No… nothing to say."

"Too bad, you know how I enjoy our light banter." He chuckled quietly, reaching his lips up to kiss at the man's eyes. "You were always verbal, so forgive me if I'm just a tad disheartened that you were so quiet. Next time I would prefer something a bit more vocal." He moved his hips to slowly pull out of the tight hold Roy's muscles had on him. "But for this encounter... perfect."

"I... next time?" He bit his lips against the pain after the almost stuttered question. He was doing rather well though, at least in gathering his composure, but there was something off about the overall effect.

With little effort, Kimblee pressed a hand against the bonds on the man's wrists, causing them to crumble neatly in a small blast. He didn't have any worries about having to fend the Flame alchemist off, he didn't think he was going anywhere fast for a while yet. The hand came back down to caress the cheek again. "Oh, I bet you thought you'd get to go out with a bang? Tsk Tsk. There you go trying to use your brain again." He pulled away from the man's body and rolled off. "I'm not going to use you as a bomb, not today at least. And I like the feeling of you underneath me _Colonel_." He stood up to redress his lower half, sending an amused look at the prone figure.

He couldn't help a minute twitch as he heard his rank, and he pulled his hands down slowly, the strained position having made just moving them difficult, and that's ignoring the fact that he'd made his wrists bleed. He wanted his feet free though, and that required moving. The shirt tatters that were still left on his frame only served to irritate his skin. "Oh... That's... not really something I would have expected." He pushed himself slightly upright, managing to keep most of the quaver out of his voice this time, though his head was bowed.

Kimblee gave him a thoughtful look when he turned around. He wasn't a man of emotion, well, not one of the caring kind. He didn't care about anyone or anything, he fucking blew them up. He destroyed lives every day, so why the hell should he care? But something made him want to leave Mustang breathing. He'd wanted to place his hand firmly on the bare chest and turn him into nothing more than another bloodstained memory. He made his way over to the now upright heap of flesh and bone and placed his hand atop the raven hair. "You'll find I'm full of surprises."

He froze for a moment under the touch, dark eyes wary as they peered up at Kimblee, then he slid his hands to one of his ankles, dropping his eyes to study the bindings. He was flexible, but he wanted his legs out of this position before his muscles locked. He could deal with the shivery, disturbing voice in the back of his mind telling him that something was very wrong after that.

"And I find that you are as well..." He said mostly to himself, tearing his eyes away. He needed to get away from the man as quickly as possible. Something wasn't right with this situation, why didn't he just end all the insanity and make his problem blow away like he'd always done? This was getting too deep for him and the best way to deal with that was to run. He wasn't a coward, not by a long shot, but he knew the value of getting away while he could. He flicked his braid over his shoulder and walked to the door without looking back. He didn’t get what he came for, but got something far better, whether it was a good thing remained to be seen. 

Roy watched Kimblee move away, quickly etching an array with a bit of his blood to burn off the bindings. It was noisier than the little explosion, but he could unfold his leg to go to the other. The long haired alchemist heard the noise, almost turning around to see if he should be worried. But Kimblee knew the man wouldn't be able to do much in his limited capacity. The poor boy was battered, bruised, and bleeding... and how that excited him to think about. He had to swallow hard to banish away thoughts of a repeat. He couldn't afford that and doubted that _Roy-boy_ would make it through it conscious or alive. Kimblee smirked widely and walked out the door with a parting shot, "Next time I expect to hear you scream." Then he was gone into the night, still wearing a self-satisfied smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

Roy hadn't really been able to make his way to the surface of his rather dazed frame of mind after the night before. He'd gotten free of the bindings and staggered off to crawl into his bed on autopilot. He hadn't turned out any lights, nor cleaned any of the messes. There was still blood and semen all over the tile that had dried rusty by morning. He hadn't even bothered to lock his door, and he never could sleep with it open. It didn’t matter. Instead, he just curled tightly around one of his pillows in his bed and hid under the covers.

He didn't even answer the phone when it rang for him.

The first two times time Maes had tried to call Roy and the man refused to answer, he hadn’t been concerned. However, this was the third time. It was not only grating on his nerves, but it was starting to worry him as well. It wasn't like Roy to just skip work without letting someone, typically him, know about it well in advance. It was usually he who glossed over the absence to keep Roy in good standing with the political parties involved with the military when the man needed to take a breather. If he was going to help push the man to the top he was going to have to deal with these things early. And that meant that he needed some kind of warning. This wasn't like him. 

"Damn it Roy pick up the receiver!" The man growled into the phone before slamming it back onto its perch. He'd left the office after the second attempt to head over and the third call was from just down the street. "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with him... or maybe not. It’s probably just because he's my best friend and he enjoys getting a rise out of me."

The rest of the walk went quickly as he practically jogged the remaining three blocks. If he caught Roy lounging in bed with some flavor of the week again, he was going to seriously maim the man. Reaching the familiar door, a hand slipped inside his inner jacket pocket to collect his picks. Only habit led him to test the knob first and the result nearly gave him a heart attack. 

_What the hell was the door doing unlocked?_ All thoughts of killing his best friend were tossed aside to make room for worry to spring up. Slowly, he withdrew one of his knives and pushed the door open just enough to allow him entry. 

The front room was mostly dark, curtains closed with the light shining from around them. It was like Roy hadn't even come into the room the night before if one discounted his overcoat being draped over a chair. The air was still, and it became obvious after a little while that the kitchen light was on, leaving that to be the source of most of the light, dim as it was when filtered out of another room during daylight hours.

Maes waited until his eyes adjusted to the dim light permeating the living room before he eased into it. The light simply wasn't enough to effectively brighten the living area, so he made damn sure not to trip over or run into anything. Not like he would have anyway, he knew Roy's apartment almost better than the man himself did. He'd helped the man move into the place after all, and it didn’t hurt that he was observant. Turning slightly brought his attention to the blue overcoat, only having caught the flash of color. He shook his head over his own jumpiness. That was nothing out of the ordinary, easily dismissed.

He inched closer into the room with a last sweeping glance before he dismissed anything as being out of place. Moving around the living room, he started to look for any sign that Roy was there. He figured that if he found the man passed out on the floor he'd die laughing from relief, then kill him, but if he didn't... well it just made a bit of sense to keep looking. More than likely his friend had just overslept with his pick of the week and hadn't _bothered_ to call him. It was so likely and typically Roy that Maes nearly turned tail and went back to the office. Something in the air didn't smell right though, and that was what was worrying him. 

It smelled like dried blood.

Looking in the direction of the scent drew his gaze to a pale flash of color on the ground, one white glove placed just before the doorway to the kitchen, laying as though tossed carelessly.

 _What in the hell was going on?_ There was no way that his friend would just leave those laying around anywhere. They would usually be kept in a small secret drawer in Roy's nightstand with the extra set that was hidden away just beneath the sink. But lying on the floor, never. Maes quickly sprinted the rest of the way to the doorway and bent to pick up the piece of cloth. He stared at it for a long moment, taking in the red that dotted the tips and frowned over what looked like teeth marks. Standing up, he ventured into the kitchen, intent on turning that damn light off, but froze in horror.

The other glove was not too far from the doorway, crumpled much in the manner of the first. But that wasn't what had gotten his attention. No, that was the mess on the floor. The mess that was a splash of dried blood, burnt cloth, oil... and other things. The cloth was dark blues and gold, with blood stiffening parts enough that it might seem to be made of some other material.

The white cloth he had been clutching earlier fell to the floor, forgotten, when faced with the carnage on the kitchen floor. It was like a train wreck; too horrible to look at but too fascinating to look away. Sick depravity, but he just couldn't turn away from the remains of what must have been one hell of a fight that ended... poorly. The safety of his best friend surged to the surface of his thoughts and he spun away from the kitchen to race down the hallway to Roy's room. He didn't think about knocking or even slowing until he burst into the room to see the curled figure laying on the bed. 

"Roy?" His voice was a little unsteady, only slightly above a whisper.

The man’s immediate reaction was to draw his blankets tighter around himself, as all he registered was that it wasn't Kimblee, and therefore must be someone who he did not want to see him in this condition. He hadn't had enough will left after the night before to get off the remaining tatters of his shirt, intent on crawling into bed to hide himself. He hugged his pillow closer to his chest and buried his face in it. He really didn't register just _who_ was there.

Maes managed to swallow a small lump that formed in his throat, trying to calm his nerves. His friend was actively ignoring him... and after what he seen in the kitchen... he just needed to make sure he was alright. He inched forward and tried again. 

"Roy, it's Maes... you didn't show up to work today and didn't call. So I thought I'd pop on over since you weren't answering the phone. Roy, what's going on?"

Maes? Maes was here? He _especially_ couldn't see him like this, and he shivered a little. He couldn't see that he'd messed up so badly. He was supposed to be heading to the top, right? People in those positions did not let things like this happen to them... He didn't even look up, hoping he would just go. Before he started crying again.

He didn't miss the quivering that racked the other man's frame, but he chose to ignore it for now. There was something wrong with his best friend and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew just what those other stains were. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to clear away some of the overlaying emotions threatening to spill over the edge. He couldn't break down right now. Later, when he was safely in the arms of his wife, maybe, but not right now. He had someone to take care of, or at least, he had to try.

"Roy, please say something. This is your best friend here. At least let me know you're still alive or something. I'm really worried about you." He stopped at the foot of the bed, placing his hands on the bottom rail.

"Not dead." And he still was more or less in shock about that one. The thought came through his near pleading murmur. "Please go, please." He tucked himself closer into the pillow as he felt the tears start up again. This was what, the fifth, sixth time since the night before? It wasn't as though he'd slept. It was just one more thing that he couldn’t afford for Maes to see.

Maes bit his bottom lip at the plea. Roy Mustang didn't plea for anyone, or anything. Something was very wrong with his best friend and he'd be damned if he left him alone in this state. He didn't care what he had to do but he was going to find out what was wrong and just who the fucking hell did this. He figured he'd be a bit bruised by the end of this, but he wasn't leaving. He skirted around the edge of the bed and bent down beside the huddled figure. He didn't make a move to touch him just yet but he did lean slightly forward, placing his hands on the edge of the mattress.

"You should know better than to tell me to leave lunkhead. Come on, this is Maes you’re talking to... well, grunting to or whatever. Roy, please. I'm just here to help."

He felt the bed move and he had to look at him at that, breath hitching at the proximity. He didn't want him to see him like this! Of course, his action easily let the other man see his reddened and wet eyes, as well as give him a glimpse of the bright bruise on his cheek. He slid back on the bed a bit, wincing as it pulled his wounds. "I don't grunt." It didn't hold any of his usual snap though, being more an automatic defense.

Maes sucked in a breath and reached an unsteady hand towards Roy's cheek. He shouldn't have tried to touch him since what obviously happened snapped into place within his mind. He was both sickened and saddened that something like that could happen to anyone, but it really hit home when he saw the evidence clearly written in the man's body language. There was no denying the fact that Roy Mustang, the bane of every woman loving man's existence and the fame, often feared Flame Alchemist was laying in bed, curled up like a frightened puppy crying! 

Somewhere along the way he'd managed to find his voice though it came out a bit strained and quiet. "You do. Wha- Are you alright?"

He turned his face away from the touch, but it wasn't a frightened action, instead coming across as a sort of rebuke. He wasn't scared of Maes after all, he just didn't want him to _see_ him like this. Especially like this... he'd never have his respect again. He jerked himself out of his thoughts and tried to understand the question. Was he alright? Just what part of him looked like he was alright?

"What do you think?" It was nearly a growl, and he pulled back, keeping the blankets tightly around him as he forced himself to sit up. He'd still been bleeding when he crawled into bed, though he was oblivious to the copper tang that had sunk into his sheets.

Maes let his hand hang in the open air as he stared at his friend with a slightly hurt expression. It dropped back to the mattress. He shouldn't let this get to him since he was used to Roy being miffed at him. Hell, he'd have to have grown a tougher layer of skin just being associated with the man but it still slightly hurt. Oh well, he would get over it quickly enough. 

"You look like hell and you reek of something I'm too afraid to confirm. You're not fucking alright and you're being an asshole." He returned the growl with one of his own. "That about sums it up. Am I close or do you want to continue being difficult?"

The phrasing and tone... Roy flinched back and dropped his gaze. He swallowed so his voice came out mostly even. "I screwed up, okay?"

Maes immediately felt like an ass. He didn't mean to be cross with... okay he did mean it, but damn it, he didn't want to scare the man! God, he was fucking up right when it counted. He bit his tongue, hard, and breathed out slowly, looking at the bed sheets. When he could manage an even tone, he looked back at the down turned face. "What did you screw up? Just talk to me."

The injured man closed his eyes tight against the renewed burn of tears and drew in a deep breath, trying desperately to compose himself. "I couldn't attack him. When I finally could he was too close and got my hands."

Maes was immediately on his feet, and he almost grabbed the man in a hug for comfort, but stopped himself from moving before he did. Instead, he relaxed a bit and eased himself down on the edge of the bed, turning his body to still face his friend. "Who ra- did this to you Roy?" He almost screwed up and blurted it out, but he couldn't do that to the man. He needed him to tell him who the bastard was so he could track them down and take his time in dismembering the bastard. But more than anything, he needed Roy to talk to him. 

Roy opened his eyes a bit, seeming to have dipped into a bit of a babble, which only made it more difficult for Maes to pick out anything relevant. "I mean, I should have just asked what he wanted and he would have _left_ but- I didn't think- I mean, he's supposed to be _dead_..." He shook his head a little, moving a hand from the safety of his covers to shakily shove his hair back. The action showed the nail marks on his palms, his own, and his wrists, certainly not his own, as well as the raw bands of skin left from being bound in place.

It took everything the man had not to yank the covers away from Roy's body to see what other bruises and wounds he had on him. The blood crusted restraint marks on his wrists were enough to make Maes see red but it kept getting worse as he took in more detail. There were bite marks all along his friend's neck, one in particular that would probably need a stitch or two, the welts on the arms... the wrists alone. He wasn't thinking properly as he cataloged the injuries in his mind. "Roy, who? Who is supposed to be dead?" His voice was a whisper.

The dark-eyed man moved a little, his usual grace hindered when he decided the pillow was bothering him now and thus kicked it off to the side. It had been in the way of moving his blanket, which he quickly pulled close to his chest. "I… he wanted to know what happened while he was locked up, but he wasn't supposed to be locked up, he was supposed to be executed. He blamed me, and he could because I freaked out back then and the wall..." He shook his head a little.

It felt like talking to a babbling brick wall. Words came out but they didn't go in. He couldn't blame him though, he'd been through something very traumatic and just sitting this close was probably giving the alchemist problems. But Maes refused to move, in fact, he was planning on getting closer. He needed to reassure Roy that everything wasn't falling apart and that he wasn't alone, but somehow he doubted just reaching out and hugging the guy would win him any brownie points. A broken jaw, maybe, but definitely no brownie points. His eyes followed the pillow's descent to the floor with widened eyes. There were bloodstains all over the casing and he bet that if he looked closely around Roy's lap and bedding, he'd find more blood. Deep rich crimson… and probably other fluids. This was not good. 

"Normally I would let you rant your little heart out Mustang, but right now we've got bigger problems." He raised his voice slightly hoping to catch his friend's attention and snap him back to reality. "You're bleeding, or you were, and badly at that. We need to get you cleaned up."

Roy shook his head immediately, tightening the blanket around him as he leaned away from his long time friend. He hadn't lost his respect yet.... but if he saw- he would. He was so certain of it. It was his own damn fault and he knew it. He even knew he told Maes that it was somewhere in there. 

"No, no, I don't want you to see me like this." He backpedaled a little, showing a flash of equally raw ankles as he retreated. "I don't think I'm bleeding anymore, really."

"Even if you have stopped bleeding, laying in it isn't doing you any good. You've got open wounds all over you and if they look as bad as your wrists and ankles... We need to clean you up." It hurt him to see his friend like this, but it hurt worse because he wasn't letting him help. But he couldn't imagine what was going through his mind. Was Roy thinking he would hurt him too? It was stupid but he'd heard about people acting very strangely after something like this, even to close family members. Or did Roy honestly think that he would turn away from him just because he was hurt? It didn't make any sense to Maes, though he tried to piece it together. He wasn't stupid, but this was stumping him.

"I'm not going to hurt you and Roy, damn it. We've been friends for over a damn decade so give me a little credit. We danced naked in the rain singing inane songs about the weather, dressed each other’s wounds during the war, and nursed each other's broken hearts. I don't think you've got anything I haven’t seen and I sure as hell won't leave you like this. I'm your best friend, trust me. Please?"

He caught a snicker that could have easily turned into a half sob. "I do trust you Maes." He ducked his head, still hanging onto the blanket for all he was worth. "I just don't want you to see me like this." It was almost a whimper this time, but he didn't seem like he was doing to make a run for it.

"I'm already seeing you _like this_ and you seem to think I'm going to run out the door because of it. I don't understand you sometimes. All I want is to help you, but you're dead set on making my decisions for me today." He sighed heavily. "Actually, that's normal for you, I'm just usually better at manipulating whatever you say to work for me." 

Okay so no actual progress was being made here, but Roy was talking so not all was lost. He did, however, want to knock him over the head and give him a hug at the same time. He could be so frustrating and difficult at times and right now was a combination of the two times two. Roy needed a bath, his wounds counted, disinfected, and dressed, something to eat and a nice long nap on _clean_ sheets. He looked like hell and it wasn't just the battered look about him. The poor man looked like he'd done nothing but cry the whole night through. That alone was upsetting enough. It was kind of hard to see a grown man cry over anything, let alone his best friend. Disturbing was more the word for it. 

"I don't... I..." He took a deep breath and let it back out. "Okay. Okay. I'm pretty sure I only have a scrape on my back, from when he slammed me into the wall." And he'd smacked his head pretty good at that point too. He eased off his grip on the blanket a little.

"Will you let me take a look at it?" He was hoping for the best with that question. If he'd let him see his back, then maybe he could talk him into letting him take a look at his wrist and ankles. The rest he could argue with him about later. "Are you in a lot of pain? I could get you some meds from the bathroom." And a washcloth, but he didn't say that part.

"I stopped feeling the pain about five hours ago I think. I'm a bit numb at the moment." That certainly explained why his actions seemed so off at least. He hadn't been moving like he was pained after all, just unlike himself.

"You know that's not good don't you? You might have lost more blood than either of us care to think about." He muttered quietly and adjusted his position on the bed. The movement was small and slow as not to set Roy off again. He didn't need him to be scared right now, though he doubted it would be the case. "So going to let me take a look at your back? Or want to start with your wrists?"

"They aren't as bad as the burns or knife marks..." He extended one of his arms from the covers, showing the burns that started at about his elbow to meet frayed and burned cloth from the shirt he hadn't ever fully removed. 

Maes reached out and gently cupped Roy's arm in his hands, looking over the limb intensely. How the hell had this happened? Roy Mustang was a tough cookie to crack, sure, he had his insecurities and peeves, but anyone would be hard pressed to get one over on the man; so how in the hell did some guy attack him in his _own_ home? He had to take a calming breath before his anger seeped out.

"They may not be as bad, but they're raw and are going to need a good cleansing. Thankfully these welts aren’t that deep." He wanted to ask, again, who had attacked him because he was feeling a bit murderous.

"The nail marks are the oldest, he was a bit peeved I shoved him away." He peered at his wrist, almost smiling at that, then it faded. "Then he bit me and it completely caught me off guard."

Maes pulled a small handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean away some of the blood and grime collecting against deep raw rivets of his friend's wrist. He tried to be gentle but he knew that it had to be hurting like a mother. They looked awful, but far better than what he feared when he took into account the nasty marks along the ashen neck. Was it weird that he was the one having the emotional breakdown and the victim was treating this like it was nothing more than a bad night at the bar? Why could things never be simple in his life? Wait… they could be, but that would mean leaving his long time friend alone and that just wasn't an option.

Another swipe of the cloth he caught himself running a soothing pattern in the man's palm with his thumb. He turned a sad smile upwards, "I think we should take this to the bathroom Roy. Think you can make it?"

He stared down at his hand for a moment before shaking his head slowly, teeth nibbling at his very abused lower lip. "No, I'm not even sure how I got back in here actually."

 _Alright, new problem._ Normally this would be relatively easy to handle. All he needed to do was haul Roy into his arms and carry him into the bathroom to have a soak. It wasn't very hard since Roy had always been the smaller of the two, much to the other man's displeasure. Maes wouldn't have any trouble with a regular unaffected perfectly fine Roy Mustang... but truth to be told was that this wasn’t the normal everyday Flame alchemist he was used to dealing with. This Roy before him was traumatized by something far worse than the horrors of war, not so much the one that he'd been friends with since time began. This Roy was an abused and broken form of the one he knew. He had to take this slowly and be very careful along the way. Maes scooted a couple of inches closer and kept his tone light. "Right, then the only course of action is I carry you. It'll probably hurt, but it'll be better than walking on wobbling legs."

A flush of shame rose to Roy's face and he sighed a little. "Go ahead. I'm not that bad off you know, not really." And that, of course, was why he was curled up in bloody blankets with unnumbered untended wounds. Because he wasn't that bad off. That wasn't convincing even to himself.

He chose to ignore the pink cheeks, getting out of the bed and heading into the bathroom instead. He breathed deeply as he sat on the edge of the porcelain tub, drawing up a soothingly warm bath. Though he didn't want to trek into the kitchen for the salt he was going to have to add to the water he knew he'd have to find something to replace the element. He looked around the bath only to find nothing, not a damn thing he could think of that would be the right equal. Oh well, they'd deal without the properties. For now, there was soap, alcohol, peroxide, and plenty of towels. They'd get through this. During the time in the bath, he'd taken his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow. Only with that fortification did he re-enter his friend's bedroom. With a small smile, he approached the bed. "Alright, let's get you into the tub then. No splashing though."

"You make me sound like a four-year-old." He inched to the edge of the bed, not wanting to be dragged off of it, even by accident. "I'd much rather just get this over with. I'm sure I'll get feeling back after."

"Don't tempt me to compare you to a child. That would be like shooting fish in a barrel and you know it." He was glad that there was real humor in his voice instead of something fake and forced that he just knew Mustang would pick up on. Roy disliked anything false about his friends, or at least that's what he’d learned, and he thought he had a pretty good handle on the man. But this incident had thrown everything he knew for a loop. It was like speaking with a long time stranger. He bent slightly and looped Roy's arm around his neck before hoisting the man into his arms, trying to be as gentle as he could. It didn't help that he had to heave him twice to get the weight adjusted just right in his grip before heading into the bathroom. 

Once inside, he moved towards the steaming tub and sat down on the edge. "Gaining weight there pal? Not as light as I remember, but least we made it here without any spills. I'll help you in then grab a rag for us both."

He raised an eyebrow at Maes with that. "It could possibly be because last time you even had a chance to carry me around I hadn't been eating as much as I am now." Not to say he'd really had any time for food. He wasn't really chubby now either. "Or maybe you just can't carry as much now."

Maes frowned down at himself as he helped slide Roy into the soothing comfort of the water filled tub. When he was fully into the tub, he poked at his stomach, then his arms. "Bah, I think I'm growing soft. Being stuck behind a desk all day has its advantages and disadvantages. And this is sadly the disadvantage." He shook his head sadly then turned an amused smirk towards Roy. "Guess I could always come by and use you as a makeshift dumb-bell."

Roy gave him an annoyed look and finally started to ease off his blanket, though when he looked to the water he grimaced as it promptly started to turn pink. "Yes, well, you can just get that idea out of your head right now."

"Oh, I don't know now Roy. Kinda sounds like a good idea. Least I know my dodging skills would improve. I'm sure I'd have a few singed hairs here and there but all in all it's exercise and I need more of that." He laughed at the familiar cross look he usually got from his alchemist buddy. If looks could kill, he would have been dead ages ago, but Roy really made it to easy to mess with him. Maes quickly went to grab a few rags and extra towels, placing the towels on the sink and taking the rags to the tub where he, instead of resuming his spot on the edge, knelt on the floor. He dipped two of the rags into the water and lathered them up with the soap lying just to the right before handing Roy one of them. 

Roy released the blanket, shoving it away him himself over the far rim of the tub before taking the offered item. Burns, cuts, bites, bruises, they became vividly obvious the moment the covering was out of the way, and it seemed like they were everywhere. It stopped the man from replying in kind to the jest as he looked at himself.

He ground his teeth together at the sight of blaring red against far too pale skin. It was obvious that whomever had done this wasn't going to have the pleasure of a trial if he found the man first. He was going to see just how much control he truly had on his little knives tucked away in his clothing. Those sharp blades seemed to be calling for blood of the damned soul that did this and Maes was listening to their demands with unobstructed clarity. "I'll... start on your shoulders, alright?"

Roy moved the cloth in his hands across his palms, eyeing the darkening water in an almost fascinated manner. Had he lost so much? How had he even stayed awake so long? "Go ahead then." True to his word, in complete contrast to his ravished front, his back was almost entirely untouched.

Maes’ hands had a hard time moving over the mostly unblemished skin. It wasn't that he was afraid to touch his friend, it was more he was afraid to cause him any more discomfort. There was a good sized bruise along the middle shoulder blades and upper back. He figured this was the result of the slam into the wall that had been mentioned. He tried to glide over it gently, taking some of the ash and muck left behind from the obliterated jacket and undershirt. As he sat there, washing without really cleaning, he had a strange thought that made his chest tighten.

"I almost came by last night to see if you wanted to have a drink." Why hadn't he? He could have prevented this from happening or at least been there to kill the bastard that had ambushed his friend.

Roy tipped his head down a little and let out a breath. "I think… I'm glad you didn't. You'd be dead." His voice was a little shaky, and he swallowed that. "I have no idea why _I'm_ not dead."

"How do you know I'd be dead? I could have gotten the bastard with you there to back me up!" He wanted to yell it out in his anger but it came out subdued. He still had no clue who had done this and Roy wasn't giving him straight answers yet. He knew it would take time but damn it, it was taking too long. He needed information so he could track the sick fucker down and... and. Well. Alright so maybe revenge wasn't his to be had but it would make him feel a hell of a lot better. 

After a long pause, Maes managed to continue. "Lady Luck likes you for some reason. You always were a lucky bastard." He didn't know what else to say.

"Was I? Maybe so." He shook his head a little and leaned forward a bit to let Maes at more of his back. "And. I just know. He's like that. He was like that before and that's why I thought they executed him like they said they did. But they didn't. The military can be so stupid."

The pale eyed man pushed the rag further down his spine, finally hitting at some rusty blood smattered against the skin. The majority of the coppery blood had liquefied and mingled with the water but there was some that was still being persistent. He pressed slightly to rub at the grit.

"Who though Roy, who? You know this person and I feel like I should know him too. And what about the wall you keep mentioning?" He was more than confused and just hoped Roy would be provide him with answers.

Roy gritted his teeth a little then relaxed under the action that was doubtlessly painful, still washing his hands, seeming to be very focused on it. "I panicked and blew up the wall. He was still mad at me for getting him caught like that when he got here." He moved to his forearms at last, head tilted down. "It was years ago."

"During the war then. That narrows down the people it could be." He muttered to himself, trying to filter through all the names and faces he could remember from that time in their lives. It shouldn't be that hard to figure out who Roy was referring to, but his disturbed thoughts just refused to focus on anything properly. He gave up with a sigh. "Holding a grudge since then. I hate to say it, but someone like that, I don't know why you aren't dead either."

"He was always weird about me, liked playing games. Never this kind, but he liked messing with my head too much. Trying to say I was like him." He almost growled that, then shook his head, more actively attacking the blood on his skin.

Maes jerked at the action dropping his own rag into the water as he surged forward to grab at Roy's arm. "Whoa whoa there. Don't go opening those any more than they already are. Unless you want me to go get a doctor, or take you to one, then we have to be careful. I can only do so much on my own Roy." He didn't like the implications of what his friend had said either. So this person, who he was now assuming to be another alchemist, had been messing with Roy during the war. Playing mind games that resulted in something a bit darker than he cared to think about. And then there was the wall. What was so special about the wall, Roy, and this man? He had some vague thought flitter around his outer thoughts but for the life of him he couldn't draw it into focus. That left Roy to fill in the blanks.

"You are not like this monster, for lack of a better term without being more vulgar. You wouldn't do something like this to someone else. He's a depraved individual that should have been killed the day he was born. Nothing like him..."

Roy snickered a little under his breath with that, releasing the cloth from his hands when Maes moved to stop him from scrubbing is wounds open. He tipped his head to look at his friend. "I wouldn't do this, no, it's too destructive, he admitted that at least." It was a murmur. "He knows I don't like destruction very much."

Maes kept the gaze steady as he bent towards the man's battered face. "You are nothing like him. Don't even let the thought nest in that hard head of yours. You may not be perfect, but you're human. I don't think whoever he is ever was." He broke the stare and went to retrieve his rag, letting Roy's arm go gently. "You know, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you prefer strategy over combat. You always have. It's why I refuse to play chess with you anymore. You're to damn good at seeing the all the possible moves before the first piece is moved."

He looked away again with a wry twist on his lips. "I've been wondering how right he was for years Maes." He fingered one of the few scars he'd had before this. He already knew he'd have a scar from the bites, if not more. "Yes, I do prefer strategy, it's part of the reason he used to drag me along with him on the raids."

There was that nagging unfocused thought again. Roy was always going on raids with the other elemental alchemists. There were a few that he'd been paired with that held other talents like Armstrong. Maes involuntarily shuddered as an image of an overly sparkled Armstrong crossed his vision. "Don't do that. Don't compare yourself to him. Do I have to go pound it into your head that you are nothing like this guy?"

He ran his fingers back and forth over the scar on his lower torso, ignoring the fresh wounds littering him entirely. "It wouldn't get you anywhere Maes, it's an old habit by now. I... I just wish I had been able to attack him... but I couldn't! I just- couldn't until he was _far_ too close."

"Stop blaming yourself for what happened. Just stop." His soapy hand rested lightly on the warm flesh of Roy's back. "It's not your fault, no matter how you slice it. You may have missed your opportunity to attack him but that doesn't mean that you wanted _this_ to happen." He knew this was random but he had to know. "What about the wall. You mentioned it and how it got _him_ caught but what about it?"

"I hadn't really remembered it until he reminded me. Yes, I'd _remembered_ , I mean, it's not like something a person forgets... but he had to remind me. He was still mad about it. Because it got him caught, and then they didn't kill him. They said they killed him damn it." He narrowed his eyes at the dark bath water. "You know what he said about that whole thing back then? 'You could have just said no'. Damn bastard."

"You- you mean he tried this back then?! That fucking bastard." He growled under his breath and got to his feet. He needed to calm down again because being angry right now wouldn't do either of them any good. He walked over to the medicine cabinet to grab the alcohol and rubbing pads before going back over to the tub. He needed to disinfect some of those cuts and welts before they got any worse. He didn't discuss what he was going to do, just poured some of the clear liquid onto a pad and started to clean a wound on Roy's neck.

He let out a little hiss then closed his eyes, holding still for him to tend the wound. "No. He only kissed me before I toppled the wall... right in front of the authorities actually. If I'd just asked what he wanted instead of why the hell he was alive, I'd be fine. Not thinking again though." He muttered the last bit darkly.

The pad stopped mid-stride on the neck as Maes realized exactly who they'd been talking about. The name slammed into him like a freight train, almost sending him onto his backside. So that was the bastard that hurt his best friend. "Kimblee." Oh he remembered Kimblee from the war, but he'd never met the man personally. He was just another alchemist among the thousands of others that were fighting side by side the enlisted men and women. But the Crimson alchemist was a force of destructive power not to be messed with. He was demented on the field, so he heard, and enjoyed blowing things up a tad too much. If he'd gotten a hold of Roy back then... the man truly was a lucky bastard.

Roy shivered a little. "I never could attack him." He ducked his head, letting out a shaky breath. "Bastard was so damn _rational_ about the whole thing. I can point out exactly where if I'd done things differently then this wouldn't have happened. I had more than one chance and I fumbled them." He was mad at himself, clearly and without dispute.

"He got to you didn't he? He got inside of your head." He said in realization. That's what the problem was. Kimblee somehow managed to wiggle his way past Roy's usually tight defenses and bored a hole into the man's psyche. Perfect weapon if there ever was one before. If Kimblee managed to break down Roy's carefully laid securities, then he could clearly see how this had happened and why his friend was still alive. But he wasn't going to tell Roy what he thought, he wasn't going to tell him that it wasn't over either. As long as Kimblee was still alive and able, he would always try to hurt Roy. It was his job to make sure that didn't happen. Maybe he should talk to Hawkeye... but then again, he didn't want to lose Roy's trust by telling anyone of what happened.

Roy ducked his head to stare sightlessly at the blood darkened water, skimming soapy fingers over the surface of it, popping the few bubbles there. "I think he might have. But if he did, it was a long time ago. A very, very, long time ago." 

"This water needs to be changed. Think you can stand for a shower?" He smacked his head after the last bit and retracted it. "Never mind, that's a no. Let's get you sitting on the edge so I can change the water, then we can wash your hair out and get you dried off, dressed, and back in bed." He stood again and sat the bottle he'd be using to the side along with the pads. 

He levered himself up, still staring downwards rather blankly. Some of the worst of the injuries had been hidden under the water, the burns being the worst and rather close to being a few very painful areas. And of course... there's the fact that he was ripped as well. But, he was paying little attention. It was just amazing the blood loss hadn't killed him.

Maes felt tired. He wasn't getting anywhere with getting Roy patched up and seeing what still lay ahead... this wasn't working out the way he'd hoped. But what had he really hoped for anyway? That the bruises and blood would all vanish with the water down the drain and Roy would be magically better? Sadly, some part of him had honestly hoped that would be the case and that this was just some elaborate dream. Any minute he would wake up next to his wife covered in sweat from the night chills. But it was real and that tore his heart into pieces. This was reality and no matter how much he wished it all to be a very bad dream it wasn't going to go away. And there was Roy. Roy would never be the same again.

He reached into the darkened water and pulled the plug to the tub watching the water swirl down into the abyss of the drain. His smile was one of desperate sadness. This was too much for him, it all was. Who was he kidding? He was the man's best friend but he was fucking helpless. There wasn't anything he could do but just take up space. And it was obvious he couldn't handle this by himself. He watched continuing red trickle towards the frain in the tub and knew he had a hard choice in front of him. He stood up on shaky legs and gazed at his friend with guilt filled eyes. 

"Roy, I think..." He shook his head and cursed himself under his breath. No, he would wait. He was a coward and he would wait. First get his friend clean, dry, and comfortable... then confront him.

Roy lifted his head to stare at Maes for a moment before turning on the water himself since his friend seemed to be frozen in place now. He had only the vaguest of ideas what was going on in his head beyond that he wouldn't be pleased with whatever it was. But even though he couldn't read his best friend, he could read his attacker? No, that wasn't what he'd done at all. Tossing that thought away from his mind almost physically, he glanced back to Maes. "I have burn cream under the sink, it should bring the welts down." 

It took the sound of falling water to snap him out of his self-imposed trance. He didn't mean to be silent nor a coward but he didn't want to lose his friend over what _needed_ to be done. Maes didn't think he could truly live through that, as schmaltzy as that sounded, it was close to the truth. He didn't think he would be able to handle losing Roy in any form. He didn't want him lost to despair, nor through guilt; he didn't want him to be driven away by him either. But he had a feeling that it would end up that way. With a heavy sigh, Maes headed over to the sink and looked for the burn cream.

Roy slid back into the nearly scalding water, then started to rinse himself, eyes half closing. It hurt like hell, on the burns especially, but the heat was soothing as nothing else so far had been. Maes... Well, he'd likely not be pleased he'd omitted any cold water this time.

Maes eyed the cream in his hand with a lazy smile. Turning back to his friend he commented, "It shouldn't be nearly as funny as it is to me that you have burn cream. I just have the weirdest images of our times in school when you used to catch our desks on fire to get us out of class."

Roy blinked a couple times as he tried to catch up to the topic before he shook his head a little. "Kindly don't freak out on me Maes, two of us don't need to be doing that." He then slid under the water to give his hair a quick rinse before he pushed himself back up, though he was barely surfaced. The almost too hot water felt very nice... even if it stung like a bitch.

He gave Roy a strange look as he settled back by the edge, "What? Didn't know you wanted to corner the market on breakdowns. Sorry, feel free to continue with yours. You've effectively crushed mine." He shook his head and plunged his hand down by his friend's leg only to yelp and fall backwards clutching his stinging hand. "What the holy hell Mustang?!" He exclaimed angrily when he managed to get words past his tightly clenched lips.

He knew the other man wasn't burned, it wasn't quite hot enough for that, but it was close. He sat up a little more and offered him the item he'd been going for, a faint smile on his lips. "Did you see me turn on any cold water?"

"You're being an ass, but thank you." He grabbed the cream and smoothed a small amount over his arm. The chill it brought with it was wonderfully welcome but probably not needed. This was just a shock more than a hurt but he was still smarting from it. "Why the hell not? You planning to cook yourself like some stew? That is not helping the situation Roy." He reached up and turned the cold tap on, letting it run until the temperature evened out. 

He made a somewhat disappointed noise as he watched Maes insert cold water into his bath, but he didn’t try to get in the way. "It wasn't hot enough to burn me Maes." He was pouting, most definitely pouting. Now that his reason for being almost fully submerged was gone, he sat up so Maes could reach him decently.

"Well it was enough for me and I count at the moment. The goal is to get you clean, not to cook you." He argued while he retrieved his rag and the wayward soap. "Won't be long now that most of everything came off the first time. But we'll definitely be working on those cuts when we get you back to bed. Think you can handle it alone and let me go clean up the bedroom?"

He really didn't want to leave Roy by himself. Oh he was sure the man wouldn't do anything rash or something like that, but he just needed to be near him, to see him, to make sure he was alright. It was silly, but he was very protective of his friends, and most especially this one. That's probably why this hurt so much. He wasn't there to spare Roy this pain and in turn the guilt of that was making him clingy. He was a complete sentimental sap. How the hell did he live this long again?

Roy blinked a couple times as he processed the question, and well and truly showed how out of it he'd been. "It needs cleaning?" He took the items from Maes' hands anyway, feeling fully capable of finishing up. There were some places he'd rather not be touched anyway.

"Yes, Roy. It needs cleaning. Nothing major, but definitely don't want you crawling back on your sheets right now. And since I'm no alchemist, I'm going to have to just flip your mattress for now." The words were tossed over his shoulder as he headed back into the bedroom. He wanted to give Roy some private time anyway. There were things they would need to discuss soon, and he needed the time to himself as well. Besides, he didn't want to make the alchemist uncomfortable when he went to wash _himself_ , and he sure as hell wasn't going to attempt trying to clean him down there while the man was awake. He preferred to live thank you very much.

The bed was a complete mess, and the smell of blood and sex permeated the air once you got closer. This wasn't something he wanted either of them to be subjected to for the rest of the day. He took off the pillows first, making sure that the cases were tossed in a pile at the end of the bed. Then came the bed covers. The main ones were twisted and mangled beyond recognition, laying off the far side. They too were slightly blood stained and reeked. It made him wonder just how long his friend had laid in bed letting his lifeblood just flow freely. He also wondered if Roy had even cared he was bleeding to death. 

"Alright so you don't know if you can actually bleed to death from- well, from there. But it's possible." Maes muttered to himself when he tugged off the last of the bed sheets and gathered the entire mess in his arms. He paused briefly in the hall to listen for sounds out of the bathroom before heading toward the laundry room with the pile.

Roy closed his eyes for a moment, then went for simplicity and sketched a little array on the side of the tub with some blood from his blanket, activating it so that the water was even hotter than before Maes had added the cold. That done, he rinsed off the mark, starting to deal with the burns on the insides of his thighs and the cuts near his groin. 

He didn't really want to even try to touch further back yet, he didn't trust his own reactions.

The last pillowcase was safely tucked into the washing machine before he turned the water on. Usually his wife did this type of thing but he wasn't completely useless around the house. He just liked to stay as far away from the kitchen as possible, though he was actually pretty alright with simple dishes. No complex cooking for Maes Hughes or the neighborhood might suffer. This chore was done, so now to flip the mattress and redress the bed. Then check on Roy. He was being very quiet, but he hadn't expected singing or anything. Though if the familiar bars of "Night Time Rider" came floating anywhere near his ears he knew he'd break down laughing right there in the floor. Gods, they were weird when they were young.

Maes made his way to the laundry closet to pull out new sheets, pillowcases, and a spare comforter he'd used the last time he camped out at his friend's place. Thing probably hadn't been used since, but it still smelled fresh. When he reentered the bedroom he noted that the smell had diminished some but was still prevalent. The first order of business, after dropping the items beside the bed, was to open a window and try to air the place out. A candle would be nice as well but he didn't want to go searching for one. 

Roy finally worked up the nerve to clean the last of himself, listening intently to Maes moving around his home. It never failed to amaze him how utterly domesticated the man could be given half a chance. Not that he usually got one, but that wasn't the point... and he was trying to distract himself from his last chore here.

He sank down into the water, relaxing into the welcoming heat. He should have made it hotter. Maybe after it cooled down a little. He then dealt with the part of himself that hurt the most, not rushing because he didn't want it to hurt worse. Once that was out of the way, he got a bit more blood and heated the water further, not enough to do more than singe him a little, but he really wanted to be comforted, and this was his most welcomed way to get that. That was one thing he'd loved about Ishbal, it had never been cold.

Maes was thankful it was a nice day out and the breeze was especially high today. Otherwise the stifling heat that rushed him after all the activity would have had him diving for the cooler. It wasn't particularly hot outside, just mildly pleasant with a slight hint of promising summer nights soon to come. He couldn't wait for that but then again, he enjoyed the last dredges of spring that refused to give way to the oppressing heat that threatened every year in Central. 

He sat down on the newly flipped and made bed while he went over in his head what he wanted to tell Roy. Most of it was just garbage that wouldn't do anyone any good other than to get things off their chests. Neither needed that right now. But he did need to broach the subject of a doctor. Roy wouldn't like it, would probably get violent, but he needed someone with actual knowledge of how to help, someone that was schooled in the healing arts that seemed far too complex for him. If it was something more than what he'd experienced during the war or those household accidents that everyone was prone to, then he was a complete dunce and there was no way he'd subject his friend with his sub-par skills. Besides, he didn't know what to do. He needed a professional’s help and whether Roy liked it or not, so did he.


	3. Chapter 3

Roy peered over the edge of the tub as Maes stepped into the room, having submerged himself almost entirely under the hot water. It wasn't at all what his burns needed, but he didn't care. The burns were one of the kinder things anyway. He'd never shared any of his quirks with Maes of course, most especially not that one, but that was entirely beside the point. "Done?"

"My mother would approve." Maes said wistfully grabbing up the towels from the sink's rim. "How about you? Bout ready to crawl back into bed?" His tone was neutral, and he stared down at his friend as he settled on the edge of the tub. He could feel the heat of the water rising against his thigh and couldn't stop the slow frown forming. "Didn't we just go over not making yourself into a soup? It can't be good for your injuries. Well the soreness maybe, but not anything else."

Roy tipped his head to peer up at Maes with an innocent expression. Amazingly, it actually seemed to be genuine. "Well, yes, but it doesn't hurt. It's just nice to be warm."

"Hurt or not, it can't be doing you any good. No need to worry about the warmth bit though. I've got you out those funny gray PJs Gracia got you for your birthday and there are plenty of covers piled on the bed. Add in that it’s a very warm day outside and you've got the perfect comfort weather. Come on," he lightened his voice and offered a hand. "let’s get you up and dried. Then we should talk." _And maybe I'll find something to hide behind when we do._

He looked like he was seriously considering hiding under his nice scalding water instead of crawling out for dry covers, but he finally sighed and took the offered hand, sitting up. "It's not a warm day. It's nowhere near summer yet."

Maes grunted with the effort of pulling the man to his feet but replied in a near teasing tone. "You're just a freak for warm weather. Anything below scorching and you're grumpy. It is a nice day out, in the mid-eighties I believe. It's warm enough to serve its purpose and there's covers to pile over your head if you prefer, so stop being difficult." He quickly wrapped one of the towels around Roy's hips, the other going around his shoulders. He wound an arm around the dripping waist and held onto Roy's arm, draping it over his shoulders to help him out of the tub. 

"You know I prefer my weather at _least_ in the nineties. And _dry_." He nearly collapsed after getting over the rim of the tub, only keeping his feet for a few seconds before a bout of dizziness slammed him and his knees gave out.

They stumbled together for a few steps before Maes was able to correct them. He bent slightly and picked Roy up, cradling the man against his chest. This was not good, and be damned what Roy thought. They needed help, fast. Maneuvering around the room wasn't as easy as it first had been, why? He honestly didn't know. Maybe it was because he was tired? Maybe... he didn't know but they finally reached the bed. Sitting Roy down gently as he could, he released him to grab the shirt lying just beside him.

"I don't know why you didn't just take the job out east then. The weather is by far the warmest I've ever experienced and you can have it. I prefer the seasons right here in Central. The springs are warm, the summers bearable, the falls pleasant, and the winters mild. What more could a guy ask for? Besides you I mean. If you had your way, every day would be 95 and we'd all be doomed to wear shorts and tank tops to the office. Though I wouldn't mind that since there are quite a few lovely ladies roaming around nowadays."

"Nothing is happening in the East. And it's muggy. Here it isn't muggy, and there it _snows_." He shook his head, using the towel to more or less attack the water that was clinging to his skin. "I need to be bandaged up or I'll get blood on the pajamas."

"Right. It would be me that forgets after harping to you about it getting done." Maes was slightly abashed, there was even a faint hint of pink coloring his cheeks as he turned away to retrieve the supplies. Bandages, peroxide, alcohol, rubbing pads, gauze snips, and a small sewing kit, everything the modern first aid kit should hold was all piled neatly on the bed beside the hurt man when Maes returned moments later with the tackle he'd thrown together. "We'll start from the head and move our way down. It's going to be uncomfortable as we get lower. I want you to let me know when you want me to stop." He looked into Roy's eyes and hoped he understood that he was a bit uncomfortable about doing anything below the chest himself. Maybe if the alchemist acknowledged the problem, then he could effectively broach the subject of a doctor. How they got this far without one was beyond him.

Roy peered at Maes for a moment before a weak chuckle escaped him and he shook his head, staring down at the covers and his bare lap. "Honestly, after all the fuss I would have thought that you would have been a bit less blunt than to say something like that." Tipping his face down, he shook his head, a small smile on his lips. Honestly, how could the man even think he needed to be reminded that it would hurt? It was blatantly obvious.

"Forgive me for trying to give you a chance to prepare. Of course, we both know this is going to hurt like hell but damn it Roy, I'm trying to make it easier for us both!" Why the hell did he have to an ass about everything? It was like he wanted to pick a fight... and he just might. He could understand that his friend was frustrated and upset but he'd be damned if he was going to be the target of it. He tightened his lips and started the long process of disinfecting and bandaging every cut, burn, and bruise along the way.

And Roy... well, he found it absurdly funny that Maes wasn't affected by his rather rude attitude. He snickered softly and closed his eyes, focusing on the painful, yet soothing, touches that started on his face and worked their way down. Then part of what his friend had said had filtered in and he cracked his eyes back open. "Something wrong with you too Maes?"

He sent a mild glare of frustration over the rim of his glasses. Oh, leave it to the man to pick it up _now_. Oh well, he wasn't actually trying to hide the fact that he was upset but he'd hoped it wouldn't come up. Now that it had, he had to deal with it. He worried over the nasty bite mark on Roy’s neck. "Besides the fact that I've discovered a murderous streak a mile long somewhere within me. No. I'm _fine_." Of course, he wasn't fine but one little lie would be alright. He ignored his guilt meter and continued to cleanse.

He titled his head a little so Maes could get at the bite easier, eyes squinting a little as he tried to ignore the painful part of this. "Murderous streak? I guess we all have one of those somewhere, but there's no need for you to summon up yours." He adjusted his towel a little.

"Oh, you think not? Well, it's there and waiting for the moment it can come out. But that's for later discussion." He replied quietly moving from one wound to the next. He'd worked his way down to the chest by the time he found enough courage to bring up his inept abilities at helping. "I- I don't think I'm going to do much more than dress these you know. And I'm definitely in the dark about... I mean..." This was harder to say than it sounded it in his head.

Roy sighed softly and shook his head. "I don't think there's anything that can be done with... that at this point. Just get the others and I'll deal with it later." He spoke quietly, but there was an underlying steel in there.

Maes pulled the pad away from the battered chest and sat beside the man. He was expecting a fight, but he wasn't going to be deterred so easily. With a shaky breath, he pushed forward. "You don't know anything more than I do about this. Face it, you won't do anything about it besides let it go. You need to deal with this before you lose more blood and/or anything becomes infected. These simple measures won't last for long if any one of them become infected. Roy, you need a doctor."

"No. Even if I need one, the person would not be able to get anywhere close to me so it's pointless anyway." He waved one hand, now bandaged, around a little bit.

"Roy." He raised his voice slightly looking down at his slightly stained hands. "You do need one. I can't do anything else. I don't know how! You need help and I can't provide it this time. There's nothing I can do."

"We'll figure it out Maes." He reached over and soothed some burn cream up along the inside of his legs. "Besides, now that I'm fully aware of what's going on again, I'm sure that if anyone else comes near me, that I won't be able to control my reaction. Do you _really_ think me mauling a doctor will help anything?"

He laughed at that. "Well, I don't think it would do either of us any good if you did that. But you need one... maybe I could ask about this, but we need to do something Roy."

Roy shook his head a little, shooting a glare at his friend. "We are doing something. I'm cleaned up, and now we're dealing with these wounds, and I'm going to need you to at least hold the bandage in place." There was one thing with Roy, he never had been very modest, and was perfectly fine with flashing his injured body. He gestured for Maes to step closer. Really, the only part of him that Maes had never gotten a good look at was the scar that Kimblee had been too fascinated with to damage again.

Maes chewed on his bottom lip but didn't try again. He wasn't going to argue with him anymore. If Roy didn't want a doctor then there wasn't much else he could do besides accept it, bar incapacitating the man, and he really doubted he'd have a friend if that would be the case. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Fine... fine, alright. We'll do it your way for now. But if you get worse then I'm getting help."

Roy snorted softly and reached out to snag Maes' hand, putting it where he needed it so that he could work on wrapping the bandage properly. "Hold that." He started to wrap, not seeming as ignorant of bandaging himself up as Maes had thought. In fact, he seemed rather proficient at it.

Maes nearly jumped at the change in body temperatures. He'd been more or less touching Roy's exposed flesh for the better part of two full hours, from finding him, the bath, to now so touching wasn't the problem. It was like extremes of warmth; one area was normal even temperature while where his hand now rested it felt like a small furnace. Was it because the area was closer to more flesh? He didn't know and almost didn't care, he wasn't really interested. Okay maybe curious, though, of that white jagged scar he saw peeking over his friend’s fingers. "Hmm, don't remember that one." He looked at his friend from the corner of his eye. "What happened there?"

Roy paused a little, glancing to the scar in question before reluctantly removing his fingers from it to resume wrapping the bandages. "I've had it since the war." His voice was a soft, even tone, and he carefully worked around Maes' hand, not being at all gingerly with his own wounds.

He couldn't help himself, he ran a finger pad across the uppermost part of the scar, fascinated by the pattern. "Since the war? Wonder why I haven't noticed it before… I've seen you naked since then you know and I swear I don't remember that being there. How'd you get it?" He was being nosy but that was just who he was, Roy would either forgive him and tell or kill him and hide the body later. Either option seemed workable at this point.

"I tend to hide it. I'm the only one that knows how I got it. I had to burn it shut after because I was bleeding too much, but that was really the least of it." He shook his head, turning his attention to his other leg, moving Maes to where he needed him. 

"Not going to share that bit of information I take it?" It was a bit of a let down, not being able to know the how and why of the scar's history, but if Roy hid it even from him then he wasn't going to push it. He'd just keep himself on his best behavior and stamp his usual curiosity down over this one. If Roy wanted to tell him, fine and dandy but he wasn't going to insist.

"It's my secret." He nodded a little then shook his head. "My shame, mine to worry about." And there was something in his gaze that flat out said that whatever the scar represented to him, it was very important given the current situation. "You weren't the only one startled to see it Maes."

Maes idly wondered how a scar could hold shame over the man but he supposed that anything was possible. He had his own secret shames and knew the importance to keep them to himself, but he never thought his friend might be the same way. He also couldn't help feeling a little hurt about being kept in the dark. He thought they didn't have secrets between them. But apparently he'd been wrong. It was alright. Things like this happened all the time; he couldn’t know everything about his best friend just as Roy couldn't know everything about him. It still hurt, but he didn't let it show through. "Why do I have a feeling that Kimblee was surprised by it?" His voice held foreboding since he pretty much figured that's who Roy was referring to.

"Because he was. I wouldn't tell him about it either." He shrugged slightly, running a finger along the smooth part of the scar. "You know how hard it is for me to scar Maes. Especially so effectively." His finger ran back, the motion slightly hypnotic considering that while most of his moves weren't the most graceful at the moment, that one was completely without a hitch. "I think he thought he knew where all my scars from then came from."

"I thought I did as well." He uttered under his breath as he watched the action. It seemed that now that he knew about the thing, he couldn't take his eyes off it. He felt kind of like a voyeur as he stared at the scar. It wasn't his place to look but he couldn't help himself. "Kimblee is a piece of work. He should have been dealt with during the war."

"They said they had. He's been locked up all this time. I'm not sure how they managed it now that I think about it, he really isn't the sort to let someone keep him in a cage, however well fortified." He tilted his head, then suddenly moved to tie off the bandage he'd abandoned midway through.

Maes managed to tear his eyes away, swallowing sharply. "I don't like the idea of anyone being able to squirrel away a demented freak like Kimblee for years on end without it being public knowledge by now. You'd think I might have an inkling but I don't. It's too damn hinky to be something as simple as reprogramming... something major happened and I don't like the implications of that."

"He's still as sane as he ever was, so if they were trying to change how he thought, they failed." He ran his gaze over the finer cut wounds low on his body and reached for the antiseptic, welcoming the stinging. It was keeping him anchored firmly. "He had no outside contact, or he wouldn't have needed to come find me, even if he blamed me. Really, when he was thinking his strategy tended to be better than mine."

He'd never personally met the Crimson Alchemist, so of course he'd never worked with the man and he couldn't agree or disagree with Roy on that point. He wanted to deny that Kimblee was a better at anything compared to one of the smartest people he knew. Okay, Roy was a genius in most things but get him drunk enough and you'd think differently. He smiled at a swirling memory, almost chuckling aloud at a particularly vivid part. "Careful with that Roy, don't use too much or you'll deaden the area for longer than intended. That's not good no matter what the situation is and we're trying to keep the quacks away... for now." He kept the last part as quiet as possible.

Roy raised an eyebrow and switched to the more adhesive bandages, smoothing them over the fine lined cuts. "I know. I've done things like this before, if not quite on this type of scale Maes. I think you forgot somewhere in there that Alchemists during the war were feared on _both_ sides."

"Prefer to forget actually. And I don't care, I'm being a mother hen so deal with it. I'm trying to... sort of." He ran a hand down his face then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Or trying to. Just work with me here." 

Roy reached out and moved Maes' hand away from his face, pushing his glasses back up his nose rather calmly. "You're making me wonder what I look like you know. That it has you in such a state." He moved his hand away, and it drifted back to that scar, which he couldn't seem to stop messing with now that Kimblee had seen it. That was the last person he'd ever wanted to know about this one mark.

The touch had been light, quick, and managed to pull him out of whatever hole he'd fallen into. Probably depression or something of that nature, he wasn't too sure but, it was gone now. Maes took the chance to look at his friend, really look. He dismissed the slightly damaged cover and took a better look at _the man_. Something was definitely missing, most likely the famous cocky and absolutely charismatic aura that usually surrounded the alchemist. It was still there, hidden beneath the layers or bruises and pain. It was still Roy, just diminished. Maes wanted that hug, damn it. He needed to make sure that Roy was tangible and whole... or healing. It was hard to explain the need even to himself. He took the opportunity to resettle on the bed. "Well you're not the pretty picture you always were but nothing too bad. This just shook me up is all. Hell, shocked the hell out of me more like it. Surprised I didn't keel over from a heart attack."

"You always liked to be far too dramatic." He shook his head slightly and finally reached for the pajama top to tug it on, unwilling to even attempt the pants at the moment. "It's nothing so bad as that Maes. Of course, it being you that came here is far different than if someone else had come, but it's neither here nor there I think." He shook his head, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes as it suddenly agitated him. "And I'm still _cold_."

Maes reached up to help slide the top over Roy's head, careful not to agitate the raw wounds any more than possible. The task was easier said than done, though it was over with in a matter of moments, but Maes' hands still lingered on the hem of the fabric. He pinned Roy with an amused look. "Well, you're half naked you dolt." He chuckled, slinking an arm around his shoulders to gently press his friend into his side. "We'll get you under to covers, that ought to take care of the heat for a while."

He didn't exactly relax with the initial contact, but after a moment, he noticed that Maes was incredibly warm, which led to him burrowing in against his friend as the man reached for the covers. "I still don't know why you dragged me out of my bath. I was keeping it at a lovely temperature."

"Probably because you would have become a prune at some point or boiled yourself alive. I think I know just how warm that water was." He glanced down at the hand that had been scalded with a slight frown. He tightened his grip around Roy's shoulders and shifted them both on the bed, bending slightly to help his friend swing his legs onto the bed with the rest of him. It took some doing, but he managed to pull the covers from under them and situated it around both their legs without upsetting their position. He only let go long enough to adjust the pillows before laying both Roy and himself down. Once that was done, he moved his arm back around him and pulled the covers over both their bodies. Looked like he wasn't going anywhere. To hell with the office for today, and possibly tomorrow. They wouldn't miss him.

"It wasn't bothering me. It was soothing." He sighed quietly, as though he was trying to get a point across to a particularly stubborn child. It was a bit amusing that he was acting like the stubborn child in the equation, curling close against Maes in an attempt to leech every bit of warmth out of him.

"Tch, you say that but I know the truth. You'd have happily stewed yourself. You and your relationship with your element. Never fails to amuse me sometimes." He didn't miss the fact that Roy was snuggling himself against his side. It felt right like this, with him holding the man close. Something clicked, twisted inside his chest and he felt like crying in both pain and joy. Maybe it was a twisted sense of empathy mixed with the need to make sure Roy was alright. He turned onto his side and draped the other arm around him after removing his glasses, placing them in between the headboard and the mattress, already certain they'd find their way to the floor sooner or later.

He blinked a few times over the, to his view, rather abrupt actions. "I've always been like that. You know that. I suppose I really belonged in the desert, didn't I?" He sighed out a breath, relaxing back into his friend as he resettled himself, tugging the blankets more tightly around them.

"Yeah... though with your complexion you might be a big sunburn for the first few months. Though it would eventually bring out the olive in your skin." It was idle conversation, but it was a safe topic. No more talks about Kimblee, no more doctors, just a simple conversation about warmth. "Would have been a long commute to see you too. You know a few thousand miles isn't going to stand in my way to drop in unannounced for a visit."

A small, genuine smile crossed his face before he hid it against Maes' shoulder, amused. "They'd kick me out within a week and we both know it. They'd beg you to take me away the moment they saw you." He shook his head a little, moving a rather timid hand to hang onto Maes' shirt.

"Ha! I actually believe that. You always managed to get yourself into the weirdest situations and guess who always has fun getting you out of them." He squeezed the other man’s shoulder gently, closing his eyes trying to imagine the scene. It wouldn't be too far from the truth if Roy ever went to an eastern post. From what he'd gleaned about the offices over there, they didn't take kindly to practically all that Roy was. It would be an adventure... he just didn't want him to go. Probably a bit selfish, but he'd miss his best friend too much. He opened his eyes and smiled down into Roy's dark eyes. "Would be a great story to tell the grandkids though."

Roy quirked his lips a little and shook his head, his hair once more getting into his face with the action as he tightened his fingers a bit, as though subconsciously worried his friend would try to escape him without him paying the closest of attention. Really, it was fortunate that it had been Maes and not Hawkeye who had come in search of him, because the blond woman would more than likely have been slapped back with fire at the first sign of a threat. And if he was being honest with himself, the woman was a walking threat. "You're already planning grandkids? Well, you certainly know how to get ahead of yourself, don't you?" He moved his other hand, resting it on Maes' side. He really wanted the comfort but he was clearly not up to being his bold self.

He moved the free hand to brush away the stray hair from Roy's face, still smiling. It was good to hear some form of humor from him even if it was a bit weak and his voice was a bit shaky with worry. Though what Roy would be worrying about he couldn't exactly figure out. It was within reach and taunting him but he couldn't put his finger on it. He merely shrugged away the feeling mentally and moved on with more important ones. Like comfort and security. He was trying to provide both for his friend and, in some way, for himself. "Of course! I plan on being the best damn grandfather in the world. Never too early to start planning these things out. That way you don't get gobsmacked when it actually happens." He paused a moment, lost in thought. "Then again it better not be any time in this decade. Not sure the grandkids would appreciate growing up without a father."

Getting no immediate protest to his inching in to cling, he scooted closer, firming his grip a little. Well, it wasn't as though he hadn't already found a way to keep Maes in place considering how he had his shirt, but he had no wish to risk it. He did blink at the other man for moving his hair though, not seeing any reason for the action himself. "More like this century. I doubt you'll ever have grandchildren with how protective you are. Gracia's lucky she gets to spend any time with Elysia."

"Can I help it if I want to be close to my little angel? And come on, I have a right. There are far too many weirdoes out there that I do not want my baby getting involved with. Though it would be my luck she'd fall for some anti-military radical thinker punk and elope in Dublith or somewhere like that." He jostled Roy's hair playfully. "And don't you dare give her any ideas. She's smarter than even I give her credit for and I wouldn't put it past her to listen to you far more than me when she grows up. I swear it's a teenager trait."

He ducked away from the ruffling with a sound of discontent, as he had a rather serious bruise on the back of his head from where he'd been bounced off the wall the second time. "If she's smart, she'll figure out a way to put your picture obsession to use. I doubt you'll ever have to worry about weirdos with her, you are one." He finally slid his arm slowly around him, cautious of being told no.

"Don't point out the obvious- wait. I'm not a weirdo!" He huffed indignantly. "I'm a loving father that enjoys documenting my daughter's life through film. I can't help it if she's so photogenic. Come on, you know you love seeing her as much as I do. Why do you think I bombard you with her photos every chance I get?! Uncle Roy needs copies to." Oh, he knew full and well how much his little collection tended to get on people's nerves, especially Roy’s. That didn't stop him from bringing them out every chance he got. It was a great distraction and an even better mood breaker. He shifted a little when Roy pulled away and he could have kicked himself when he realized that it was probably hurting him. He seemed to shrink a little with the realization and turned his head to the side in embarrassment. He quietly muttered, "Sorry."

He tightened his grip at the hint that Maes might possibly be considering moving away from him. He suddenly very much didn't want the other man out of arms reach. He trusted Maes, and he knew his friend wouldn't hurt him on purpose. "No, it's okay, really." 

Maes had, up until this point, ignored the fact that Roy was holding onto his shirt for dear life but it was painfully obvious that the man didn't want him going anywhere. Like he was considering it. No, he had no plans on moving from his side for a long time yet. Though he did make a mental note to call Gracia at some point to make sure she wouldn't worry. He was glad she was understanding... very understanding. Often times he wondered how the hell he'd gotten so lucky for her to say yes. Must have done something right in the previous life. He readjusted his grip on Roy and snuggled into the mattress, "Still sorry though. I shouldn't have done it. Your head didn't make it through unscathed after all and I was inconsiderate to the fact."

"It's okay, you didn't realize. Just a bruise is all..." He burrowed back against him, taking a shaky breath as he tried to calm down from the fright the small retreat had given him. He didn't loosen his hold any, and he was finally coming down from the obscure place he'd been for hours and hours before now. He hadn't been safe to come down, but now he was safe and he wasn't hurting anymore. Now everything that happened was finally starting to get through to him.

He resisted the urge to stroke the still damp hair, not wanting to cause even the slightest wince to come from his friend. But it didn't stop him from attempting that course a half dozen times. "Bruise or not it still hurt no matter which way you slice it. So, warm enough I take it?"

"It didn't hurt enough to bother me..." He really wished he hadn't reacted that way, because he easily caught the repeatedly aborted motion out of the corner of his eye and he wouldn't have _minded_ it any. "Yeah..." He didn't want his friend scared to touch him! He was hurt, not fragile. Of course, that worry made his voice quaver a bit.

A breathy sigh escaped his lips at the peace of mind that this gave him. They weren't at each others throats, snarling over getting a doctor, they weren't still fussing over the wounds, and Roy wasn't bleeding as much anymore. It'd almost stopped from what he could tell though, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. But that didn't seem to matter much at the moment since he was reveling in the closeness and comfort. Maybe it was wrong to actually enjoy this; He honestly didn't care.

Maes' hand found its way against Roy's head by accident mostly but once there the ‘want to’ outweighed the ‘need not’ and continued to pet gently. Guilty pleasure, he supposed, but it always felt good to do and have done. What it really boiled down to was he wanted to comfort his friend any way he could and this was one of the few ways he knew how to provide such comfort. It might be silly when looked at just for face value, but the simple action could do wonders for the state of being. He often found that just stroking through his little girl's hair when she was upset would soothe her worries and calm her down. He hoped it would do the same for Roy.

It wasn't completely dissimilar, as Roy was simply relieved that his friend wasn't going to try to avoid touching him still. He did relax, but only a little as he felt the urge to just break down rise in him at the comfort. He was sure that wasn't the reaction that his friend had been hoping for in the least, but he was almost certain it was the one he was going to get. He tightened the arm he'd slid around his friend, taking a deep breath.

There were flashes of nagging thoughts that tugged at Maes' subconscious, like the mess in the kitchen to get rid of, the appropriate and very necessary phone calls to make to everyone from his wife to their respective departments back at HQ, even the argument about the doctor. It was enough to make him want to scream. Of course, he didn't, and he didn't let any of what was bothering him leak from either his mouth or posture. He was relaxing with Roy against him and that was it. No room for anything bothersome… well maybe breathing but that was necessary.

Roy closed his eyes, concentrating on the sheer familiarity of his companion. He drew another breath, closing his eyes a bit as his fear of his friend escaping abated a bit, and he moved slightly so his face was fully hidden against the other man's chest. "You're not going anywhere for a while... right?" The quaver that had slid into his voice before wasn't gone, and had in fact gotten a bit worse.

The voice coming from the alchemist's mouth just didn't seem like it fit with the man Maes knew. It was scared and weak, and it made his heart clench. With a pause to steady himself and make sure his voice wouldn't crack in the slightest, he managed to nod an answer. "Not for a _very_ long time." He slid his hand around to brush at the side of Roy's head. "You should get some rest, you'll need it."

The fine quaver seemed to slide from his voice into his body with that, but there was no easing his death grip on Maes. Apparently he was still stronger than he looked, even after so long out of the field. "I can't." He shook his head a little, seeming to almost want to crawl into his friend. "I want to, but I can't. I'm thinking too much, and I just, I..." He tapered off into a soft sob, unable to finish his words. He was exhausted in so many ways, but he simply couldn't sleep. 

More than anything, at this moment, Maes wanted to be able to whisper that it would be alright, that everything would be fine. But deep down he knew it wouldn’t, not for a long time at least. He'd seen cases similar to this during the war. Not like, but similar. Where once stood healthy young men and women ready to take on anything the war threw at them, there was nothing left but empty emotional husks. He didn't want Roy becoming like that. He ran his fingers through the damp tresses, letting his friend cry.

"I know this will sound utterly stupid, but don't think. I know it'll be hard to do but try. Focus on other things. Ask silly questions, hum a few bars from that raunchy tune we learned our first year in the military... Don't sing though. You can't carry a tune in a bucket."

If anything, the comment prompted a near laugh that made him cry harder, the tears mostly silent, and he shook his head a little, easing off his grip a fraction so he could rub the tears off on Maes' shirt. "You aren't as funny as you think you are you know." Not think? The man had to be insane to tell him to not think. He simply couldn't get the events out of his head. He _hadn't_ been thinking all night really, and now that he was, he couldn't stop. "Besides, whatever anyone says, it's not that easy to just quit thinking." He shook his head, face still hidden against his chest. 

"Told you it was stupid didn't I? It's hard to stop thinking, we all know this from our repeated attempts throughout our lives. But during the process of trying not to think we tend to be led down other avenues of thought rather than the one we were currently brooding over and ‘attempting’ to forget. It's some psychological round about way of helping one deal with your problem without having to actually _deal_ with it." 

He really needed to shut up, he was confusing himself. When the thought of ‘not thinking’ struck him he'd been taken back to earlier years just after the war. He remembered the same insane idea thrust upon him when he let the demons from his past rise from the depths of his own personal inner hell. It was stupid and didn't work... or so he had thought at the time. It struck him that it did, in fact, work when he found himself pondering just where his hell was located within himself. It was a distraction device, nothing more nothing less; but it had given him and possibly countless others the time needed to step away from their problems for a few precious seconds, minutes, hours. Time he knew that Roy would need to start his healing. Emotional more so than physical, because he had a feeling that the emotional side of his best friend would be forever torn. 

He arched a brow, "And I damn well am as funny as I think. You're just too sour to appreciate my sense of humor."

"I'll never understand why I surround myself with the most bizarre people possible." It was a low mutter and he made a furious rubbing action to get the last of his tears, though more were lingering, as his sobbing had only abated a slight bit. Really, it was trembling just behind his voice. "And you're telling me to think of something else. It's kind of hard when you've long since taught yourself to be ready for the roundabout associations and logic jumps..." He took a shaky breath, a self-depreciating smile on his lips. "Honestly, you know my brain works in weird ways."

"You mean when it works?" He just said it as a counter, nothing meant behind those words. "But now that I think about it, you do attract some pretty bizarre characters. Let’s see. Riza had to be your second since I'm currently the reigning number one. She is an odd duck if you ask me and the relationship she has with her side arm." He shuddered mockingly. "Then, of course, I have to bring up the _subject_ of Jean. I'll never work through just _how_ that puff of hair is natural. Always thought he colored it but you can see the roots. Would love to met his mother."

"Why must everyone mock my mind? It always works, if not always how I want it to." He huffed softly, still dwelling too much on how much Maes' comment about his mind working was like Kimblee's, but he no longer was about to start sobbing again. "Don't forget yourself, you're obsessive to the extreme when the occasion calls for it." He tipped his head back to his chest, hair hiding what little of his face would be visible at that angle. "And you entirely forgot the other two."

"I'm sure they'll forgive me." Maes smirked. Something was definitely still niggling at Roy, he could tell. Of course, the man being a crying mess cuddling against him for warmth was a dead given but there was something else. He could tell that what he'd hoped would take Roy's mind off the attack went horribly in the other direction. Those little gears that operated that very astute if sometimes negated blob of flesh most referred to as a brain turned any faster then the man might just have a meltdown. _Way to go Maes. You should really do this for a living. I'm sure there are other lives you can wreck with your astounding stupidity._ The curse was meant for his thoughts alone so he kept a firm grip on his bottom lip. With a sigh, his hand slid under Roy's chin and slowly turned it upwards until he could look into the other's eyes. "Just close your eyes and lay here. Probably won't go to sleep but I'll be here if you do and I'll still be here when you wake up. But try."

And suddenly he wanted to talk again. He had earlier, in something of an incoherent babble, but now he wanted to talk again, and this time, he might actually make sense, as his mind wasn't almost a complete blank. He really wasn't happy that his mind kept swiveling between pain, blankness and _this_. He very much didn't want to meet his gaze, not anyone's gaze, and it showed in his eyes as he struggled to hold the eye contact. "I can't, I just, I didn't even have control of myself Maes." He did close his eyes though, as he spoke, unable to hold that green-gold gaze.

The pad of his thumb ran across the unmarred flesh of Roy's chin as he pressed the man closer, still, to his body. There was so much he wanted to be able to say and do right now but couldn't. Like make this all go away. Fat chance there but it was a nice little fantasy. "No one really has control over themselves all the time Roy, not even the Fuhrer. You tend to disagree with me on that subject but it's human nature to be a conflicting mass of walking flesh. In your case, though." He would have to word things carefully at this point. "In your case your control was stripped away by an imposing force. It was against your will and not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that. You didn't want this to happen, but it did, and I'm betting you think that there was more you could have done to prevent this. The truth is that there might have been, but that doesn't mean you didn't do the best you could at the time, no matter if you don't believe that. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault."

Roy shook his head and a little despondent sound escaped him as he ducked away, hiding his face again. "Even then, I should have had some sort of hold on myself!" Really, at this point there wasn't any closer he could get without releasing his grip on the other man. "I... I _liked_ some of it. How could I possibly...?" He shook his head a little.

This is where Maes, once again, wished he knew what to do. He wasn't prepared for anything like this before, so what the hell made him think he would be after the small respite from earlier? Roy's wounds were more than skin deep and he had no bandages tight enough to stop the emotional bleeding from seeping through. Not that he would be able to suppress the flow anyway, ill-equipped as he was. All he could do was try and hope for the best. And he hated himself for it. "I'm not really sure what to say. I can try to reason it out with you. You were attacked sexually. The body has certain responses to different types of stimuli, most of which are fairly common and go unnoticed. But then, there are the stimulates that are more focused such as the ones for anger, pain, and pleasure. In your case, your attack tripped many of your pain receptors corresponding with each wound received. But since this ended in a very vulgar extension of sexual intercourse then so too your pleasure receptors triggered. Simple touches on sensitive areas of the body can signal a pleasurable response. Even if the host body doesn't want to feel pleasure from a distressing situation, the body is run by its sensations. There's nothing wrong with you enjoying some of what happened to you Roy, because your body was responding to the pleasurable sensations it was being fed."

For some reason, Roy found the little spiel that his friend was obviously pulling out of his ass to be rather funny and snorted, shaking his head as he laughed a bit. "Maes, that is a load of shit. I'm just overall fucked up if I nearly fucking _melted_ when he _bit_ me before he even managed to pry my fucking gloves off." He lifted his head to pin him with a look somewhere between amused and completely hopeless, though he sounded a bit pissy about it.

"What the hell do you want me to tell you Roy?! That you deserved whatever the fuck you got from bastard because he hit on one of your kinks? For fuck sake Mustang what the hell do you want me to say?!" 

He closed his eyes and flinched back a little, ducking his head almost immediately, once more entirely subdued. "I don't know. I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to deal with this." He uncurled his hands, pulling back a little. "I'm sorry Maes." 

What had he done? What the holy hell had he thought he was doing yelling at the injured man like that?! He was drained and frustrated but he shouldn't have let that surface and burst out like that. It would only cause his friend more anguish and he was right because he just scared him. When would the suave intelligence man show the hell up for work within his mind, because scared and hurting Hughes was doing a shitty job at being a best friend. He felt sick. "Roy..." He slid his hand to rest on the battered cheek, trying to convey his sorrow. "I didn't... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Please don't do that, I didn't mean it." 

All work that had led up to that point in getting him to calm down was utterly destroyed with the little outburst, and he bit his lip, feeling fresh tears rising up in the backs of his eyes. "You shouldn't have to deal with me like this." It was nearly a whimper and he flexed his hands a little, as though to resume his latched on state, before dragging them away. 

"You shouldn't have had to go through this either. We're in a sinking boat and neither of us have life jackets." He lowered his voice as he leaned his face over Roy's head, pressing the man back into his chest. "Good thing we both know how to swim then. I didn't mean to yell at you, I shouldn't have. I'm frustrated at myself for not being able to do anything for you. I'm useless." 

He leaned into the comfort after a second of stiffness, eyes closed tight to try and contain the tears, though the action was futile. "You're not- You're trying, you are... I just- I'd never- then this..." He shook his head, whimpering a little. 

"Shhhhhh." He whispered into his friend's ear. "We're both sorry then. You shouldn't have to go through this alone. And what kind of friend would I be if I dared let you? Nope, you're stuck with me until the end. I've got to live up to my best friend title you know." His hand found it's way to the small of Roy's back where it began to rub along the spine softly, not wanting to put any pressure on his injuries. 

He didn’t care about his injuries himself, so he just burrowed against his friend, taking hiccuping breaths that were almost sobs, and he snaked his arms to a better position to both be close and to grab. "You already are. And I'm a mess. But I'd never..." He shook his head. 

With one hand currently busy stroking along Roy's spine he let his other drift back smooth over the damp hair. "I'm here to help clean you up then, but shhhh, no more of that. It'll take some time but it'll be alright one day." 

He lifted his gaze a little, shaking his head as he shivered. He had to get this out, because he felt his friend needed to understand. "I know. You're here. But he- I.." He paused, taking a rather shaky breath, whispering. "I was that kind of virgin Maes." 

If events of the day hadn't had the impact of a two-ton truck slamming into his gut then that statement sure did the trick. He stopped all motion and stared down at the trembling man in his arms with a fearful frown. Why had he thought that Roy... Why the _hell_ would he think anything like that about his friend anyway? No, best not to question himself too closely right now. He might come up with answers he really didn't want. He clutched Roy tightly against his chest and buried his face into the top of his head, not really being too gentle but definitely still mindful of the man's injuries. "I'm sorry Roy. So sorry. I- you- it shouldn't have been like that for you." 

"He knew too." He shivered, not minding the tightness at all. "And it... He was so damn _happy_ about it." He took a couple breaths. "It hurt so much." He tightened his hands, clinging. 

"Oh gods..." His eyes widened with a sudden realization. It was amazing that he knew actually since he wasn't, by any means, actively leaning towards the other side of the field. It was just one of the useless and trivial tidbits of information he stored in those mental filing cabinets of information packed away in his mind. "No wonder you were- and the blood. He didn't... That bastard." 

Of course, the sudden bits of incoherence didn't lift the veil of confusion that implied the man had apparently thought of something. "Maes?" He lifted his head a little to give his friend a bewildered look. He had been sure they'd already established Kimblee was a bastard by this point. 

This was not his idea of a fun afternoon. Maes could feel the headache born of frustration and weakness creep into his forehead and moved a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose to try to stave it off for as long as possible. How was he going to explain the dos and dont's of safe male on male sex to his friend without being looked at with disgust? Of course, the whole question of how and _why_ he knew this... not his day. "The reason it hurt so much is because you weren't _prepared_ for the assault." 

Well, that explained a sum total of... well, nothing. "He lingered for over an hour, I'm sure that he knew what was coming before he _did_ it Maes." He was bewildered enough that it came out reasonably solid. What the hell was his friend on about? 

"No Roy... you weren't _prepared_ for him to- I mean you have to be." Well, this was going excellently. He had a feeling that no matter how he tried to skirt the subject there wasn't going to be any escape for him now. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut. He looked down at his friend, thankful that he could focus on something other than those watery eyes. "When a male has sex with another man... well you know the way it works for women but it's different for a man... oh geeze. I feel like my mother trying to explain sex to me." He coughed but moved forward. "We both know that when you have sex with a woman they are... erm... slick?" He was mentally and physically cringing at this point. "They essentially make their own form of lubrication so it doesn't hurt either of the parties with the friction during sex... but ummm... with a man it's different. We don't make our own lubrication so some has to be added for it not to hurt either participant. Not to mention that the ‘entrance’ has to be stretched slightly so it makes it easier and more comfortable..." 

He blinked a few times as that filtered into his mind, and he opened his mouth a little, only to close it as he peered into Maes' face for a moment. Then he said the first thing that popped into his head, still completely stunned. "How the hell would you know that?" 

A slight crimson blush crept into his cheeks, making him more or less look like a tomato, and he had to turn his gaze to the side. Definitely should have kept his mouth shut. This wasn't the time nor the place to be discussing this _at all_ and yet he'd brought it up as if it were nothing more serious than the weather reports. Somehow he figured he was going to either die of embarrassment or go to hell in a handbag. Whichever came first, he was prepared. "I... just know these things." Yes, that was a very lame excuse but he wasn't wanting to subject Roy to the real reason. 

"You- you." He sort of stared, eyes widening a little, and he was genuinely speechless. He leaned up, eyeing Maes as though he was some complex formula that he'd somehow missed in his studies. "How did I not know this? 

Maes truly wished that the heat he felt searing his cheeks would consume him on the spot. This was beyond embarrassing. He never really intended to tell Roy about this side of him. He was a happily married man with a little girl, there was no room for this side of him. Damn it, did he have to look at him like that?! He felt so small and disgusting though he knew Roy didn't mean anything by that look. "Be... because I never told you. It's not something you just let on to someone at work. Even if they are your best friend." He resumed looking away finding an interesting spot on the covers that looked like it needed stared at for, oh... ever. 

Roy huffed a little and shook his head, still staring at him. "You are such a stupid idiot sometimes! You could have told me this. Who knows what could have been different." Still more than a little in disbelief, he just sank back to his former cuddled position. 

Now it was Maes' turn disbelieving eyes onto his friend. That was a bloody odd thing to say even if it was Roy Mustang that said it. And that man came up with some of the most inane things in Central... probably the country. The things that would come out of his mouth and he'd look like he was serious while he said it. It was disconcerting. "What the hell do you mean by _who knows what could have been different?!_ And _hey_!" He huffed himself and squeezed lightly. "Watch who you're calling an idiot." 

He sighed deeply, making no attempt to move again, hands resuming their clingy grip now that the shock had worn off. "Just because I never did anything never meant I wasn't curious. So I'll call you an idiot if I want to." He muttered this directly into Maes' shoulder. 

It took a long time for him to stop gaping. He opened his mouth once or twice, trying to come up with something to say only to close it again and shake his head. Though he'd thought his friend might have been inclined to both sexes as he was but now that he was faced with actual proof, well it was a bit hard to swallow all at once. "Wonders never cease where you're concerned Mustang." He laughed quietly. 

"And you are an idiot." He would much have preferred that his friend showed him these things instead of a sadistic rapist. After all, the man had been the only one he'd ever really thought of that way at any point that was male, so he'd never done anything, and now look where he was. His life really sucked sometimes, it truly, honestly sucked. 

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot and you're mine. Some team we make." He huffed while loosening his hold on the injured body. "Oh well, so we've firmly established we're both dopes. Anything else that should come out now that we're both relatively embarrassed and in a situation where we _can't_ run for the hills?" He was desperately trying to make the red in his face disappear, but so far it wasn't working. Actually, it was getting worse, creeping down his neck. 

There was an extended pause, in which he more or less tried to keep Maes' grip on him tight. He didn't care if it hurt at the moment, the security of the firm hold was making him feel better. "So it doesn't always... hurt like that?" 

"It's not supposed to _hurt_. True there is some discomfort because let's face it, usually nothing is _supposed_ to go there. That's where the _preparing_ comes in. To make sure that neither experience more discomfort than possible, since it's _supposed_ to be an act to bring pleasure to both parties. So one or both go through a process of working themselves to both receive and give that..." He wondered idly and with a smile if his mother could explain this better. She always was one to plunge headfirst and knee deep into something. It was both a blessing and a curse but least she got the job done. He just wished he could do the same. 

"A simple no would have worked just fine Maes." He lifted his head, sliding a hand up to shut him up. "I just- I couldn't see how anyone would want that. You don't have to go into details, really." He gave him a frail smile, though it quickly vanished, and slid his hand away again, leaning his forehead against his neck. 

"I seem to have the famous foot in mouth disease. Sorry, I just get carried away at times. You ought to know this by now and should word questions very carefully around me." There was a slight smile in his voice as he settled himself back against the pillow. "One of these days my mouth will get me into real trouble." 

He lifted his head, tangling himself more firmly with his friend. He didn't care if he was half-naked, or that he was hurt. The entire not thinking thing had kicked in. "You act as though it never has before. I'm sure Hawkeye nearly shot you more than once for it." 

Maes shook his head slowly, chuckling. "Details, details. Besides, I didn't even do _anything_ wrong in that situation! I swear that woman gets an unnatural pleasure in threatening people. Love her for it because what would Hawkeye be if not dangerous?" 

"Yeah, well, I'm just glad she didn't come check on me this time, that wouldn't have been pretty." He shook his head, rearranging so he was sprawled over Maes' chest with a pile of blankets on top of him. It had to be overly hot to the other man, but Roy was almost snug. 

Though Maes didn't seem to be embarrassed much anymore, his blush didn't seem to be going anywhere. If anything, it was spreading. He almost sent himself into a fit of laughter when he realized exactly what it was. He titled his head back and stared down at his contented friend with an amused smile. "Warm enough yet? Good, but either I'm going to have to lose the shirt and socks or I'm going to cook! Geeze you and your heat." 

He actually seemed to debate about that, chewing on his lower lip a bit. It was like he'd taken a bit of a step back in time, as he hadn't done some of these mannerisms since before we went to Ishbal. He'd been so much less confident back then. Then he moved a bit, keeping his arm around him. "Fine, but don't go anywhere." 

"Now why would I do that?" He asked, still amused with the situation. He managed to sit up without jostling his friend too much, peeling the slightly damp shirt off his skin. The buttons would suffer later, but he didn't really care as he tossed the material to the floor. Going after his socks was a bit trickier but with a slight turn to the left and maneuvering, he had both wrenched off and beside the shirt in little time. He snuggled back down against the mattress and readjusted his arms around Roy. 

Roy was back on him in an instant. Without the shirt in the way, the slight chill that Roy was trying so hard to rid himself of actually evidenced itself. The man always had been a living ice cube. It was little wonder he was addicted to warmth. "You're sweaty." 

"Imagine that. Me, sweaty after being covered to the nines in both covers and a heat producing best friend, _in_ eighty something degree weather. Surprise, surprise." He muttered humorously taking the opportunity to shake his head at Roy's weird nature. "It's not so bad, the heat, like this. Kinda comfortable. But I have a feeling by the time we get out of this bed we're both going to need a shower and the covers will have to be washed." 

"I'm not sweating." In fact, the only time he ever did seemed to be when it was cold out. It was a weird quirk in his makeup. He nuzzled back against him, since he no longer had a shirt to cling onto he had to find some other method to firm his grip. He looped one arm behind Maes' neck, and the other around his shoulder, and apparently found that satisfactory as he rested against him again. 

"You. Are. Not. Normal. But oh well, life wouldn't be half as interesting if you were." He wasn't surprised by the closeness and the method in which his friend achieved it. No, but he was by how completely natural and beyond comfortable it was to _be_ this close. Why hadn't he discovered this little pleasure years ago when they'd shared beds while traveling around? Would have been nice to know that you could get this kind of creature comfort by just laying with your best friend... yeah. 

"I can't be normal if I want to survive you and your obsessive pictures. Who did you show pictures of before you stumbled over Gracia anyway? I never figured it out." And he'd always been annoyed by that. He'd actually _wanted_ to see what the hell he was showing everyone back then, and now that he didn't much care for it, he couldn't get the damn things out of his face. 

"Oh...erm, well..." This was a bit embarrassing as well, but since Roy didn't automatically shun him when he revealed his preferences in partners... well, he supposed he could come loose with some of the content of a few of those pictures. But that didn't mean he had to tell him exactly _what_ they were of. "Well most of them were harmless. Back in school they were of the various girls you and I dated, landscapes, our parents. Then when we reached the military it became more of an obsession. I took pictures of things I liked, wanted to study, or just wanted to look at one day for a laugh." He cleared his throat. "But some were shown only to a select few. Those were my most precious. Remind me to show you a few one of these days. I'm sure you'd get a kick out of most of them." 

"Why didn't you ever show them to me back then when I _wanted_ to look at your pictures?" He was firmly distracted, and the topic seemed to be drilling Maes for answers he'd wanted for a long, long time. 

"Because I was young? Because I was still learning my obsession? I don't know... maybe because I didn't want to alienate you with some of what I captured." He shifted uneasily and tried to change the subject. He wasn't too happy where this was going to lead. "And what?! You don't enjoy my pictures now? I should feel hurt you know." 

If nothing else, this conversation was proving to pick at a vast range of things that Roy really wished he'd known before the disaster the day before. "What could you have _possibly_ taken that you didn't want me to see so badly? Hm?" He leaned up a little, meeting his eyes willfully for the first time that morning. 

"Nothing! ...Er, absolutely nothing. That sounds like a good answer." He smiled nervously and tried to look anywhere but Roy's face. "No comment works better in this situation because we both know it was _something_ but I don't want to _say_." 

"Which by no means indicates to me that I will not find _out_." He shifted his grip so he could lean closer, tilting his head to pin him with a rather intense gaze. For the moment, he'd regained a bit of determination and drive apparently. "Now, what was on those pictures that worried you so much?" 

The smiled had faded into a worrisome chew to his bottom lip. Why the hell did Roy choose _now_ to become more like his old self? The one time he thought he could get by with letting a small portion of himself free to the wind and Roy turns around and pins him with that _look_. Oh, he would have to repay him for this... with something worse than family photos. _Much_ worse. But for now, since there was no escaping, he submitted to the cause. "A lot of them were of you and some of the other guys from school. Then they turned into some of the officers around the barracks... Umm... nothing too bad really. Just photos of people." There he'd said it. Of course, he kept the content of the pictures to himself. Many of them were rather intimate. Well, for most it was just the perspective, not true intimacy, but still they were private. 

"When did you manage to take pictures of me?" He blinked a few times, slipping sideways into bewilderment. He didn't remember Maes ever wielding a camera on him back then. Of course, that explained why he hadn't showed him... but his curiosity wasn't abating. 

"It's amazing what you can do when no one notices, Roy. I can remember the first time I actually caught you on camera unawares. Was a complete accident actually. I'd been walking home from the market and saw you out back. You didn't notice me when I waved and that got me to really look at what you were doing. You seemed so out of it, sluggish. You were looking up into the sky, at or for what I don't know, but you were entranced. I couldn't help it… you looked so at ease. I snapped the picture without really thinking and went on home. It wasn't until much later that I realized exactly what I'd done and what I had captured." He smiled. "Bet you won't believe that your picture is what fueled my desire to take more." 

" _I_ am the cause of the evil hobby?" He paused, looking somewhere between pride and absolute and utter mortification. It wasn't fair! Fuck, nothing was... His mind rather abruptly spun back in another direction, the one he didn't want it going to. He'd always adored the sun... Hell, one of the first things that he'd heard Kimblee tell him when they met was that he was made for fire. It had been such a compliment at the time. 

The facial expression on his friend changed so quickly that Maes could have sworn the man was possessed. He didn't mean to upset him so badly with his revelation but apparently being the parent of something as unhealthy as obsessive photography. It was just weird and disheartening. Photography was one of the few joys he carried with him from his childhood. "It's not evil... but I suppose it could be a bit oppressive at times. Didn't really think you minded it that much. Sure you'd complain when I kept bombarding you with family photos of my angel but it was all in good fun." Maybe it was time to restrain himself when it came to his photos. Maybe they were getting a bit out of hand. 

He blinked, trying to refocus on the topic at hand. "Hm? It's an office hobby to hide from you in picture mode is all." He sounded distracted, and it was suddenly obvious that his mind was nowhere near the topic they'd been talking about scant seconds ago. 

Maes unlatched one of his hands to press against his friend's cheek lightly. "Then what has you so upset? You look like someone ran over your puppy." He was starting to think that shutting up and going to sleep would do them both some good. If anything, it would stop him from saying something stupid again... and it would stop Roy from thinking, period. 

"I used to like staring into the sun. I never really thought about it before... and I remembered a... compliment... that I got." He didn't seem all that sure that it was a compliment anymore. "At least, it seemed like one then, I'm not sure anymore." 

There was a sense of foreboding Maes got from that statement. The uncertainty he heard was a dead give away that it was said by the one person that Roy _shouldn't be thinking about._ He'd tried so hard to pull his friend away from the bad memories and in a matter of moments, it was all brought down by a photo. Sometimes he wondered how he remained Mustang's best friend. He was screwing up at every turn. Bad day was an understatement. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out who said it then." He nearly growled as he spoke but tried very hard to keep his tone light and low. 

"No, I suppose it doesn't. There are a lot of things he said that I'm not sure I should have been taking as compliments, but I did anyway at the time." He sighed, refocusing his eyes on Maes with some effort. "So, why did you take pictures of me anyway?" 

The switching to and fro was beginning to give the taller of the two a headache. He staved it off as best he could, but it was starting to become a strain on his nerves. He just hoped that he wouldn't snap again. That was another _thing_ that didn't need to happen. With a deep breath, he forced a wan smile and remembered yesteryear. He never really examined the how’s and whys of what he did, he just did them. Of course there had to be a reason he started and a reason he kept going. He just wasn't sure he wanted to tell Roy that. "We've been best friends practically all our lives, seen each other every day. We were inseparable and we both knew each other better than brothers, but after that first photo... I began to see something that I never saw in you before. Something deeper and less guarded. I know it was an invasion for me to just take the pictures without you, or anyone really, knowing, but I wanted to find what I'd missed in you since the day we met. It was like... well it was an obsession." 

Roy blinked, leaning up to study Maes' face once again, though it wasn’t the almost dissection-like look that the last one had been, more like... curious. "Were there many?" Though he was giving the other man a headache, it was nothing against his own efforts to wade through his jumbled thoughts. He latched onto this line of thought because it was making him feel better. 

"You're kidding right?" He sniggered. Honestly, did Roy think that the hundreds of pictures he takes of his baby girl were just something he did since she was born? Hmm. Then again, he might, since he never shared his _other_ works with him. "I've taken thousands. You have your own box or three in my collection. I never stopped taking pictures of you." 

A few rather baffled blinks followed that. He had the feeling that he should find that creepy. He really truly did, but... he didn't. "And you never told me about this. Why the hell did you never tell me about this?" 

"Besides the obvious fact that it's very unhealthy pastime I have and that it makes it look like I _stalk_ you? Gee, I wonder why." He replied sarcastically. "To be honest, it was my little secret that I didn't want anyone to know about. I would have told you, should have told you, but... but there was this little voice in the back of my mind warning me against it. Telling me that if I did then somehow we'd never be friends again. I listened to it tell me that you would maim me for doing something so violating... and don't say that taking photos isn’t violating because I know better. The camera sees things people don’t when they look at the same scene. It picks up more than live action. I've seen things about people that I'm sure they never wanted anyone to know." Great, he was making himself feel bad. He was beginning to think of himself as some leech. Perfect. 

Roy narrowed his eyes a little at him. "You can be such a bastard sometimes, y'know that? You make it sound like I would have tried to make you quit." He snorted, shaking his head, then he squirmed back down to a more comfortable position. Stupid idiot, didn't know he was one of the few people he'd ever been seriously interested in, and hid relevant shit like this from him. That would be like finding out that Hawkeye secretly had a stash of sex toys that she fantasized about using. 

"Well, wouldn't you have?! It is a bit creepy having someone snap photos of you _all_ the time without you knowing." He sniffed rudely. Leave it to Roy Mustang to turn his reservations against him. It made him feel twice as bad for not having told him years ago. Then again, he actually should have expected this sort of reaction. It was just like him... it was _so_ him. Stupid jerk. 

"No, I wouldn't have. It's not like you can really sneak up on me anymore, but at least now I know what you were doing some of those times you were hovering around." He shook his head, then nuzzled into his shoulder, tightening his grip a little. He was _sure_ things would be different if he had known about this mess. At the very least his mind would be on firmer footing. 

"You'd be amazed how easy it is to sneak up on you Mustang. Stop being so cocky." Maes nudged his friend with his chest. “But I should have told you. Things could have been different for a lot of things if I hadn't been so selfish and afraid. One of these days you'll forgive me for being an idiot." 

"I'll think about it... And just because I don't always admit I see you lurking doesn't mean I don't notice." He shook his head, then rested his cheek against Maes' chest. The man had always been so warm. A fact that worked against him when he wanted Roy to leave him alone in the middle of the night while they were on assignment over the years. "You're warm." 

Maes didn't know whether to laugh himself silly or smack his best friend over the head. The man was being an absolute brat and though it wasn't irritating, it was still a bit aggravating. How that worked he wasn't exactly sure. Absently, his hand began to glide along Roy's spine in a semi-petting motion as he stared at the wall on the other side of the bed. There was so much to think about now; Kimblee, the attack, their insights to one another, what would happen now, why the hell this didn't tear them apart... and why he didn't want this to end anytime soon. "Glad to know I'm a nice heating pad." He sounded far off, lost in thought. 

"At least you aren't doing your best to squirm away from me like you usually do when I get cold." He huffed, closing his eyes a little as he focused on the gentle motion along his back. It felt nice. Soothing. He needed that at the moment. 

"Hey! I don't squirm... much. But you have to give me some credit. I knew _I_ was like this... I didn't know then that you kinda harbored an interest in _this_ side of life. Give me a break. I was nervous and _very_ scared I would do something we might both regret. So shut it Mustang and go to sleep." He breathed out like some five-year-old that hadn't gotten his way. Really the man could be so _annoying_. But he loved him anyway. Why else would he put up with him after all these years? "You're a handful but, I wouldn't like you any other way." 

"I never said I had an interest in that side of the tracks. I only had an interest in _you_." He snuggled closer, relaxing into his best friend as he let his eyes close fully. "Idiot." 

"Shut up already and let me have my dirty man moment." He kidded through a yawn. "And how can you be interested in me? I’m the most boring person you know." 

He just snorted softly and tightened his grip to a nearly uncomfortable point as he settled down to sleep. "Cause you're you. Keep petting and I might be able to sleep." It was a mutter, already half asleep. 

With that, he did laugh but kept it as low as humanly possible because he wanted his friend to get some semblance of rest. "And thus, the great Colonel Roy Mustang admits to being a kitten in the sack. I think I'll cherish that bit of information for the rest of my life." His mouth turned upwards into a devious grin. "And lord it over you whenever I possibly can." And by no means did he plan on stopping his caress now that he knew his friend enjoyed it so much. It was something that he enjoyed doing. Maybe he was a bit lecherous after all because he couldn't help wanting to know if he petted long enough... would Roy purr? Well, that was neither here nor there so he quickly pushed aside that train of thought and focused on two things: Continuing the gentle pet and getting his friend to rest peacefully. 


	4. Chapter 4

Groggy, disoriented, and practically blind. That is how Maes Hughes suddenly found himself just a few short hours later. Actually, he never remembered falling asleep so it was a bit disconcerting to find himself just waking up. And the strangest thing was he honestly forgot where he was for a few moments after opening his eyes. That didn't last long though, the previous events from the day came cascading back over him like a raging tidal wave, and the ache he'd felt earlier in his chest became apparent again. Of course he didn't get to dwell on whatever dark thoughts he was having because something nearly socked him in the face. That's when he remembered that Roy was sleeping against him and immediately became worried. His friend was more than likely having a nightmare and guess what... he was right tightly snuggled against him. Well, that was just perfect.

The light moans tore at him because Maes had a very good idea just what the poor man was dreaming about. And if he wasn't, then whatever it was was just as bad because the squirming and pitiful struggles against the covers showed he was trying in vain to get away from whatever it was. His limbs felt a little numb because of how he slept, aided by the fact that Roy had practically used his upper arm as a pillow. Now when had he moved from his chest to his arm? Who knew but those tiny pinpricks one gets after a weight has been lifted made it painfully obvious that it'd been awhile ago. He cautiously raised a hand to his friend's face, smoothing over the cheek before going to rest on the exposed shoulder. He nudged it lightly.

"Roy... Roy, wake up." He called out quietly, his voice still racked with sleep.

The reaction wasn't exactly the one that the other man could have hoped for. He jerked back a little from the contact, sending them toppling off the side of the bed, which they’d at some point gotten a lot closer to. They both hit the floor in a pile of bodies and blankets, a pillow even sliding off to nail Maes in the head. Roy, of course, didn't sleep through that, and he opened his eyes a bit too wide, still mewling from the nightmare. His eyes weren't focused on anything outward though. "Don't!"

Aside from being absolutely unprepared for the impact, the aching back and backside, the wind being _knocked_ out of him by a none too light body crashing on top of his, and the lovely ending addition of being clobbered in the face by a pillow, this wasn’t so bad. But as soon as he heard the fear filled plea escape his best friend's lips, and felt the all too real trembling filter through into his body, he immediately pulled his hand up to rest against the cold sweat covered face. "Roy!! It's Hughes, remember Maes? Your best friend and current bunkmate ...albeit on the _floor_ now, but Maes all the same. I won't hurt you, I'd never. Shh, it's me." He cooed quietly but firmly. 

He made a low noise of distress at the initial contact, but as his friend continued to speak, his eyes focused a bit. As soon as he was aware of who it was he was on top of, Maes was on the receiving end of a nearly painful hug, as Roy latched onto him tightly, still shaking.

He gasped out when he felt his ribs nearly break at the grip Roy was holding him, with but he didn't dare complain, and instead he wrapped his own arms around the trembling shoulders. Gods how he wanted nothing more than to make all the pain and anguish go away, be able to flip some switch and make it as if it never happened. But that was fantasy, not reality. Maes felt like crying. "Shhhh, I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere... so a little air would be nice."

Roy eased his grip a fraction, breath still a little stuttery as he tried to calm down, his forehead against Maes' collarbone. "Sorry." It was a murmur, though he apparently wasn't about to go anywhere, and wasn't quite with it, voice trembling and soft. "Not leaving?"

Maes loosened one of his arms up so a hand could gently pet through the slightly damp mop of unruly hair that tickled his bare neck. "Of course not. I told you I wasn't planning to leave for a very long time. I would, however, like to make a few phone calls later otherwise we'll have everyone from my wife to the office lackeys tracking us down. And we both don't want that to happen."

He leaned up into the light touch, releasing a quiet breath as he did. "Okay..." He didn’t sound like he even wanted to make that concession, but it was needed, and he knew it was. He cracked his eyes open, looking at Maes as he slowly lifted his head. "I can come with you right?" Apparently he'd at some point decided that Maes was going to stay in his sight at all times.

He smiled softly at the man atop him, though it was probably obscured by the dark. Then again, everything was slightly more obscured for him since he wasn't wearing his glasses. Maybe it wasn't quite as dark and hazy to Roy as it was to him. Oh well. He just cursed his faulty eyesight for the billionth time in his life later. Right now he was more focused on the _form_ of his friend rather than his features. "Yes, but only if you feel up to it. I don't want you collapsing like you almost did in the bathroom. And even if you can't, I won't be gone long at all, I'll even make sure you can hear me if you like." He was hoping to convince his friend to stay in bed since he didn't get the chance to clean up the kitchen just yet. He very much didn't want Roy to look at that _ever_ again.

He curled his fingers a little and shook his head, taking a deep breath. "I'm coming with you." And there wasn't any chance in hell of keeping him from following his friend around at the moment. He would likely have a breakdown if he tried.

Well, there went that idea. He sighed heavily closing his eyes as he spoke. "Alright. We'll take it slow and easy then. I don't want you tiring yourself out just because you want to come with me. If you do get tired let me know and _even_ if you loathe the idea I'll carry you."

He was quiet for a moment, then shifted his grip a little, sighing. "You wouldn't be able to carry me around, you were complaining earlier." He shook his head, then settled down, putting his head back where he was resting his cheek along Maes' throat.

"I don't see a point in there _worth_ validating Mustang." He retorted lightly. "Besides, what else is there to do if you're too tired to make it into the living room? It's not exactly a hop and a skip away you know. No, I was merely thinking it'd be easier if you rested in here while I went and made the phone calls and got us both something to wake us up. I don't want you to overextend yourself." He knew it was futile but he was going to try and convince his friend to stay here.

"I'm going with you." He said it slowly, as though to a little child. Of course, there was no way he'd be latched onto a little child with the veracity he had on Maes. The man would be lucky to get the other to let him go for a bathroom break.

"Fine fine, you're going with me." He said in submission. He knew it wasn't going to work but he did try. His only hope, now, was that Roy wouldn't be tempted to look into the kitchen. They had to pass by it to get to their destination and he seriously didn't want the man to break down even worse than he did just a few hours before. It would set them both back from the progress they'd made. If he had to rebuild what he'd been hard pressed to piece together Maes was sure he wouldn't make it.

He relaxed a little with the concession and nuzzled into him a bit as he eased his grip a fraction. Now that that was out of the way, he was free to calm down a little. "It's dark out, you'll have to do those before Hawkeye comes looking. Where did you leave your glasses?" All this was said without him moving.

"Any faster and I think you would have choked. Hmm... yes we definitely do not want _her_ to come looking for either of us. She’s dangerous... did I mention that before? I'm sure I had." He mused and tried to settle against the floor. He thanked whomever built the place for installing carpeting in the bedroom. "As for my glasses, they're somewhere on the floor behind your headboard. I dropped them there earlier so we wouldn't crush them. And no, I didn't place them on the nightstand because I always manage to knock them onto the floor and step on them when I drag my carcass out of the bed."

"You didn't use the nightstand to crawl out of bed this time." He uncurled, one hand curving against Maes' shoulder as he lifted his head, peering under the bed next to them before extending his arm under it to collect the item in question, overlarge shirt covering even his fingers as he retrieved the glass and metal object. "And they could have remained up there, then what would you have done?"

"Well," Maes stated evenly, grabbing the glasses from his friend and placing them on his nose. He could see properly again and for that he was grateful. It was still dark, but now, at least, he could see Roy's pale face through it. Features were nice to have after all. "Since I didn't plan on ending up on the floor on my _back_... I don't know Roy."

"Better you than me on the floor." He quirked his lips slightly at his own admittedly bad joke, pulling his hands back under the covers as the evening chill got to them. "It got cold at some point too." He gave the window an annoyed look before ducking back against Maes with a huff.

"Well move your lumpy ass so I can go close it then." Oh, annoying wasn't even the right word for Roy Mustang. It was something far more dirty! The brat... insufferable brat. Maes almost told him to go close the damned thing himself but pulled away from that avenue almost as quickly as he spun onto it. He didn't want to move any more than Roy did actually. "Or we could just camp out on the floor for the rest of the night and suffer the chill. Either way, I'm game. Just as long as I get a pillow under my head and not in the face again."

"I've been gone all day, you have to call." Not I, not we, you. There was no way he was going to even _try_ to talk to someone else right now. "And the door isn't locked..." It was a murmur, and he sighed a little. He didn't really want to mention he hadn't eaten since breakfast the morning _before_.

"I don't even think I closed it...or did I?" He asked himself as he squinted towards the ceiling. "But I doubt that'll be a problem. No one wants to bother a State Alchemist, especially one that has been dubbed with a title like Flame. Ugh, not to mention I could use a drink, a shower, a change of clothes, and something to eat. Doesn’t even have to be in that order, but I'm figuring you're about in the same boat. So looks like we're up for the day then."

He nodded a little, dropping his forehead back to his friend's chest as he took a deep breath. The familiar earthy scent soothed him almost immediately. "I'm sure I have something that would fit you in my closet somewhere. Even if you are rather too tall."

"I’m not going to take that as a crack at my person, rather I'll just smile and say _thank you_." He kidded, happy to be able to just talk with the man. He'd never really gotten close to anyone else, not like this. He felt so at ease with Roy and it wasn't just because they'd been friends since the dawn of time or anything. This was something far deeper and richer. He was going to enjoy that for as long as he could. "Now the question is... can either of us _move_ after that landing?" He asked with a laugh as he tried to wiggle his toes.

"I'm sure you can manage since you need to get up. It's more a question of if we can get the blankets to come _with_..." He gave a last rub of his cheek against his friend's shoulder before pushing himself up a little, undoing his hold a fraction.

"Well if you roll off me and then we tug, I'm sure we can get this thing to go anywhere we want. Though I imagine it'll be around you most the time anyway. How about we get it from around me first?" He gestured to his side and gladly laid an arm open for Roy to roll onto and rest so they could situate the covers. When he stopped to _not_ think about the situation they ended up in... it was kind of funny.

Roy wasn't all that happy to move, but he rolled off of his friend, perfectly happy to trap his arm if it ensured he wasn't going anywhere. He knew the clinging was very unlike him, but he deserved a bit of _something_ after all that. He didn't even spare his outfit a thought, aside from wondering if the draft would be too bad without pants.

Okay, just exactly _how_ did his left leg get completely wrapped in this mess? He growled low in his throat as he tried to free the appendage with a few shakes and tugs. Of course, it wasn't getting him anywhere because along the course, the covers that were trapping his foot were underneath him and somehow wrapped around Roy. What the heck did they do up there, the tango? It was getting a bit ridiculous. 

Roy couldn't help a little snicker as Maes looked about to throw a fit over the blanket. "Need some help?" He shook his head, leaning to tug at the blankets so that his friend would quit pulling them all over the place with him in them.

"Oh thanks _Roy_ for offering _ow_ after I almost had the thing." He was a bit grouchy over that little fact and didn't have any problems with letting his best friend see him pout haughtily. The prick could have offered beforehand or _told_ him that he was in this predicament. But no, he let him tug and grumble for a good few minutes before saying anything and to top it all off... _he was laughing at him_. Jerk.

Roy just smirked and pulled the blanket fully free, though the sudden draft made him shiver. He curled his legs a little, the cold air, well to him anyway, a bit much as the shirt only hit to about mid thigh. "I had to give you a chance to figure it out by yourself, didn't I?"

"Shut. Up." Immature, oh yes, but definitely worth it. He looked the man from the corner of his eye and practically choked. He'd completely forgotten that neither had managed to get Roy completely dressed before they had lain down. He felt the familiar heat of his blush creep up from his neck to spread across his cheeks and quickly turned his head pretending to uncoil himself from the rest of the blanket’s evil, _evil_ clutches. Casually, he tossed over his shoulder, "Well, no wonder you're about freezing. You're barely dressed man."

Roy snorted softly, tugging himself free of the coil as he sat up, the dark green of the shirt falling across his lap as he pulled his legs up. "Like pants would really be comfortable at the moment anyway. Honestly Maes, get with it."

"Did I mention, _shut. Up._ You're the one complaining about the cold." He snickered though he was shivering slightly himself. "Well, that's not really a problem I guess since you'll be bundled up anyway. Welp, let's see if either of us can walk after that tumble. My back is killing me!"

Roy gave Maes an amused look, tugging one of the blankets up around his shoulders as he watched him, lips twitching. "You did land rather hard, or were you complaining for no reason? I think we should check these to make sure the jarring didn't reopen any of them..."

"Mm yeah. I don't think they did since you just happen to have had a _soft_ landing. Better safe than sorry though." He turned to the side and leaned on a hand reaching towards the PJ top. His goal was to push the material up to have a look at his friend's chest. "I know the ones neck up are perfectly fine. How's your chest and back feel?"

Roy intercepted his friend’s hand on reflex, then shifted a little so he could get at the top himself with his other hand. "My back seems okay for the most part." He pulled a knee up a fraction before tugging the shirt up.

"That's good. Hmmm." His hand snaked along the bandaged and battered areas of his friend's chest moving downwards in their search. None were too bad but they would need changing eventually today. But as far as he could tell in the limited light, they were relatively good to go for a bit longer. He pulled back and smiled warmly. "Looks like you're alright for now kiddo." He just couldn't resist.

Roy gave his friend a decidedly unamused look and released his shirt to cover himself, his other hand still keeping his friend's free hand captive. "I'm nowhere near young enough for you to use that phrase on me."

"Younger than me so deal with it. Now that I know it annoys you I might just have to keep using it. Maybe around the office." Maes sent an _amused_ look back at his friend. After the scare earlier it was a nice change to laugh and antagonize the poor _kid_.

"Do it and I guarantee you'll be the first person on the receiving end of my renewed flame happy tactics." He raised an eyebrow, tugging at Maes' hand where it was captive in his own. "There were calls to make?"

The bespectacled man gave a chuckling sigh and tugged at his hand lightly. "Yeah, so there are. Now... just to get up and get there." He made an obvious effort to get from his bottom to his knees then from his knees to his feet. Bit wobbly and aching, but he got there eventually, then bent forward offering Roy a hand. "Come on. Let's get them done then."

Roy took the offered limb in one hand, securing his blanket cloak with the other as he rose unsteadily to his feet, eyes closing against an onset of dizziness. It was both from blood loss and hunger, but this time he didn't nearly collapse for the effort of it, even if he swayed a bit much.

Maes quickly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his friend's waist with a worried expression. "Are you ok? Looks like you had too much to drink but we both know that's not the case." He narrowed his eyes at the woozy man. "When was the last time you ate anything? An empty stomach combined with your injuries spells disaster."

"I think yesterday at breakfast I had some toast..." He frowned a little, obviously thinking about it, though he wasn't all that sure. He knew for a fact he had dinner the night before that at least. He just wasn't sure if he had eaten that morning or if he'd been in too much of a rush.

"With the way you take care of yourself Mustang, I'm surprised you make it to work at all." Maes grumbled as he helped his friend out of the bedroom and towards the living room. He was careful to put the alchemist on the opposite side of the kitchen opening. That way he could effectively block any attempt for the man to look over. But they were going at a pretty decent clip so he didn't have to worry so much. He was more than a bit surprised the man was doing as well as he was. If it'd been anyone else…

"I take care of myself fine... I know I had at least ten cups of coffee yesterday." He was being moved along mostly under Maes' power, and he couldn't help a bit of nausea as he caught the smell as they passed the kitchen. He closed his eyes and let himself be more or less dragged along. His voice was a bit weak when he spoke. "The phone is near the armchair."

With a bit of maneuvering, he got Roy through the jungle of the living room and sat him gingerly onto the couch, pulling his feet up on the cushions and tucking the covers around them. "Thanks. Now since I don't want to be a dead man in a few hours I'm going to call Hawkeye first. She'll be up, or at least will forgive me for waking her up... this time. Then best give the wife a call. Another woman that will have my head if I don’t give her a ring. Everyone else can go stuff themselves. I’m being lazy damn it."

Roy nodded a little, leaning into the other man as he waited for him to start his calls. "I'm shocked Hawkeye didn't come try to find me yet... Last time I missed a day, I think she tried to shoot my lock off..." 

"You've got me to thank for that one. I told her I was heading over to your place. Thank gods she trusts me... or something along those lines because she said she would leave me to it but wanted a report of just _why_ you didn't show up for work. I believe you have unfinished paperwork to attend to." He laughed and grabbed the phone from the hook.

"The mere idea of trying to go into work tomorrow is petrifying." He shook his head and shuddered, the action almost exaggerated. Almost. He hunkered lower in the blanket after that.

"Will you be quiet? I'm not letting you go to work for at least a week. I'll concoct a sick leave alibi for now. But ... well, we'll breach the subject of a doctor again at some point. Not now though, I really don't want to argue with you this early... er late? Whatever time it is actually." He dialed Riza's home number and hoped he'd get to live past tomorrow.

The phone was picked up rather quickly, and the response on the other end was a bit clipped. It didn't sound groggy though. "Hello?"

Maes fought past the sudden lump in his throat. "Hawkeye? Good, you're awake. Hughes. I need your help in convincing the brass that Roy is sick and needs the week off. Yes, he is sick and no he doesn't want me to tell you. I'm here with the dolt and he hasn't moved from the couch." Yes, he was rushing, but he seriously didn't want to talk to her any more than he had to. He wouldn't lie to her as long as she didn't ask the obvious.

"Hughes..." She practically growled the reply. "You better tell me what's going on soon, because your wife called me last night when nobody else told her where you were yesterday. I'll set up the leave, but you owe me details. I have some calls to make."

"Sorry to have worried her and sorry to call you so late afterward. But it was necessary. I'll give them to you as I get permission... otherwise, you'll get the severely edited version that everyone else will get until Roy is up to talking." He hated to be so formal but right now wasn't the time for finesse, it was time for action. He knew she could get things rolling and left her to it. "Thank you, Hawkeye. I do owe you."

"I'll do what I can." A moment later the phone clicked as she apparently put it down from her end.

Roy raised an eyebrow at Maes, apparently curious as to just what exactly the woman had said. "Was she sleeping?"

Maes returned the receiver to the stand but didn't let go. He was a bit pensive so it took him a moment to actually answer. "I don't think so. She may have been more worried than I thought because I get the distinct impression that she was going to rip my head off through the lines. Not one that likes to wait is she?" He didn't get to interact with her on a daily basis like his friend did so he wasn't privy to the subtle nature that was Riza Hawkeye.

"How exactly did she react?" He leaned closer, frowning at the phone pensively. The reply, well, clearly she'd wanted details.

"Agitated but calm. She's an enigma. I have a strange feeling that she also might come after your head as well. She doesn't buy that you're sick, so she knows I'm lying to her though she didn’t say anything. Smart, pretty, deadly… are you sure you two aren't having some sort of affair? She's too damned protective of you sometimes."

"Very sure, if anything, I think she views me as some sort of baby brother she has to watch over." He shivered a little. "I'm so glad I don't have siblings for that very reason..."

"To be ever so lucky... or unlucky." Maes commented half seriously before picking the phone back up. He dialed his home with a sense of dread. He just hoped his wife was as forgiving when he laid the same cock and bull story on her. As the phone rang and idea slammed into him like a freight truck. He turned to Roy, "Alright... maybe I do want to argue with you. About the doctor. What about my darling wife? She may not be a doctor but she's a practicing if semi-retired nurse?"

Of course, Gracia picked up the phone in time to hear the tail end of that. She'd had to fight with their baby girl the night before to have her go to bed without her daddy, and hearing that on the phone first thing in the morning wasn't reassuring. "Maes, who needs a doctor?"

Smooth, real smooth. But he hadn't expected her to be up so early. He had expected the phone to ring a bit longer, at least long enough to get an answer out of his buddy. "Good morning sweetheart. Can you forgive your wayward husband for not calling you last night to explain where I was? I actually fell asleep taking care of Roy." Well, it was more of less the truth so no direct lie. He really didn’t want to keep things from her if he could help it. He just hoped that she could be the happy medium they needed to reach.

There was a pause, and her sharp mind slid the pieces together. "So Roy needs a doctor and you didn't _call_ me to let me know you needed help? Why? I called all over the place for you, and nobody answered the phone when I tried there."

Now he was in a bit of a bind. He honestly didn't hear the phone if it rang while he was here... and if it was before he got here he knew why Roy didn’t answer the phone. But he still hadn't gotten an answer for Roy that meant he would have to skirt around the truth as best he could until he got one. He pointedly looked at his friend as he continued speaking with his wife. "I'm sorry love. What time did you try? I'm afraid if it was in the last several hours... we were both zonked."

Roy eyed Maes for a moment before reaching up to take the phone, focusing on that for the moment. He jumped in before she got a chance to reply. His voice was soft. "Gracia? Just come over and I think it could be explained then..." Then he passed the phone back without waiting for an answer.

_Okay... score one for Mustang in the ‘what the effin hell’ category._ But he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth even if he was gaping at said horse for all he was worth. "Erm, yes please dear. Though I would love to see my little angel as well I think it best you drop her by your mother's for the rest of the day. I'll make it up to her somehow so hopefully she'll forgive her daddy for not being there."

Gracia was quiet for a moment, having never heard her husband’s friend sounding like that before. "Yes, I think I will... Do I need to bring anything with me? Have you eaten?"

"Umm, no. Neither of us have. I was planning to rectify that after I called sweetie." He was truly a blessed man. He was still only half believing that she was being so calm in this situation. If it’d been him… well, he didn't react too well yesterday. She must have the patience of a saint.

"I'll bring something with me. When I get there I expect a full explanation. I'll be there in about an hour. See you then love." She waited to see if he'd add anything.

"Thank you love. We'll be waiting for you. We may be in the bedroom by the time you get here otherwise you'll see our mangy mops on the couch. Love you." He waited until she hung up before he did the same and turned to continue gaping at his friend. "You throw a bitch fit when I suggest a doctor or the thought of Riza coming over... but my wife gets the stamp of approval?"

He shrugged a little, leaning against Maes again and more or less hiding in the blankets. "As nice as she is, she isn't very imposing. I'm almost completely sure that I won't react badly to her."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear that you trust her not to _hurt_ you. Of course, she did only threaten you that one time. But if was your fault after all. She doesn't enjoy having her husband charbroiled." He smiled as flashes of that faithful day Roy came to kill him over some assignment that the alchemist was not particularly pleased with. It wasn't Maes’ fault that time but apparently it didn't matter. The Intel man was a convenient target. "She'll be here in a hour or less so I think we should clean up and I should clean."

"You had to remind me about that time didn't you?" He gave Maes a look that implied he could very well have lived without being reminded of the day he had to run from the angry housewife. Her nearly skewering him with a serving fork wasn't really the thought he wanted in his head right before she was to come over.

"Well, it came to mind, thought I'd share." The humor was too good to keep all to himself. He managed to find his feet again and offered the same hand to Roy as he had done earlier. "Come on. I highly doubt you want her to see you like that."

Distracted from the previous line of thought, he blinked at his friend as he took his hand on reflex, letting himself be drawn waveringly to his feet. "See me like what?" He had to lean against his friend as he nearly fell.

"Besides bed mussed? Sorry to tell you this Mustang ole pal... but you be scruffy looking. I have a feeling I'm not much of a sight either. So to the showers we go." He said cheerily as they made their way back to the bedroom, speeding as quickly as he could manage past the kitchen. "But we're going to have to compromise over you coming with me everywhere. I need to clean the kitchen since I’m sure you don’t want Gracia to see what's in there. So I _am_ going to leave you in bed during that portion...alright?"

He bit his lip against the protest he felt rising, and instead just tightened his grip on Maes' arm considerably as he dropped his gaze to the ground in front of them as he was steered back into his room. "I doubt I'm that scruffy, it's not as though my facial hair grows quickly."

"Ha! What facial hair? You're like the epitome of youthfulness. Takes at least four or five days before you get anything of a shadow. You kill me. Must be the genes." He shook his head leading them both into the bathroom. His arm was beginning to ache but he could work past the slight discomfort. It kinda felt nice to be the security blanket but he really needed to get that mess cleaned up. It was more for Roy's sake than his wife's.

"You know my father was the same way, you met him once, when we were younger." He took the direction easily, leaning into the other man as he got a little dizzy from all the moving around. Though, even that didn't ease up the death grip that he'd formed on his friend.

"I vaguely remember Mr. Mustang. Weird man, your dad. Then again, I was more interested in your Mom. She was a bit different than other moms. Mother never did get along with her either. Didn't understand that one myself because she liked your Dad. Go figure." Slowly he eased Roy atop the tub's edge, leaning him against the wall connecting. 

He blinked out of his daze as he realized where he was, feeling the dizziness ease a bit. "My mother was a very frightening being. I think my father was so odd simply because he was terrified of her... I think she's where I got my fascination with fire from actually."

"And you wonder why I loved your mother?" He asked jokingly as he tugged at the top. "Lift your arms up. We're going to get you cleaned up first. I think a shower this time around will help. I know you're a bit wobbly but standing for a bit will do wonders for your circulation." He wondered how he was going to get a shower of his own but more than likely he'd just double with Roy. Kill two birds with one stone. "Alright, let's get you out of that then I'm going to grab some towels. Think you can run the water?”

"I'm not an invalid... And you just loved my mother because you never knew anyone else with that color of hair." He rolled his eyes, then stared dismally at the bandages. They had to come off if he was to shower.

"So says the man that took after his mother." He grinned cheekily. The towels were thankfully close by so he could keep his eyes on Roy and get to him in enough time if the dizzy spells caught him while he was messing with the bandages. Now all he needed was Roy to let go of his arm so he could retrieve them. "Never said you were an invalid... just a bit clingy. All well and good but we need towels and I need to shed some clothes. Though it would solve the problem of tossing them in the washer and something for me to wear." Of course he was kidding.

"I only have your arm." He pointed that out simply, fingers tugging at the bandages that had to come off before he could wash. At least no stitches had been required, even if just sitting how he was hurt something horrible. He didn't say anything though because it kept the dizziness off him.

"So noted but that doesn't get me over to the towels with you grabbing me." He watched Roy fumbled over the bandages and shook his head. He knelt in front of the alchemist and began to gingerly peel the larger bandages off. He tried to be as careful as he could. "Hmm, I think another bath might be better. I don't think you could stand for long."

"I don’t think I could either." He sighed, giving up on the bandages and instead releasing Maes to tug the shirt off of himself, picking almost immediately at the bandages over the burns on his arms.

Some of the bandages came off without much trouble but there were a couple that decided to stick with the dried blood rather than come away peacefully. Maes sucked in a breath and winced as he peeled away a rather nasty one, knowing it might be stinging like a bitch to the actual hurt party. With that one gone he raised up slightly and turned the taps on, stopping the tub. "Stop picking at those. We'll get you in the water then see about those."

Roy glanced sideways, finally getting a finger under the bandage, and he pulled it off without any preamble. It wasn't exactly a pleasant sound. Though, despite that, he didn't really flinch. It was rare that Roy up and showed no care for being in pain. It had only happened perhaps twice that Maes had ever seen. "No need, I can get them off now."

"Roy..." Maes stared up at the man above him with a pained look. He didn't like to see his best friend in this state and definitely didn't like him showing no worry over his injuries the way he was. It wasn't healthy... and to be honest, it scared him. "Please don't."

His fingers twitched a little, hovering over the bandages on his other arm, then he clenched his hand into a fist and dropped it away. He turned his gaze to the side. "Fine. It's not such a big deal Maes."

"It is, so stop acting as if it isn't. You're hurting yourself. You may think that is alright, but I think it is damn wrong. I won't even pretend to know what you are going through on the inside nor will I try to tell you not to do something that you want to except when it comes to hurting yourself. I stopped you from doing something like this after the war and I'm here to stop you from doing it again. The situation is different but the theme is the same. All you have to do it let me try."

"I'm not stopping you from helping me Maes." He dropped his chin, hands uncurling as he leaned back a bit more against the wall. "I wasn't hurting myself, it simply didn't matter, they needed to come off anyway." He shrugged a little, voice softer, and it was apparent he'd given up the argument, or in general really, for the moment.

"They did but... sometimes I think you aren't really listening to what I have to say. You look at me sometimes and you stare straight through. Something is wrong, we both know that but apparently I'm the only one willing to accept that. It's okay... for now. I won't argue with you over this because I know you know I'm right. Let's get you into the water and I'll see about cleaning the kitchen." 

Roy moved his legs over the side of the tub and hefted himself in, sweeping his hands over where he'd been a moment before. He was almost sure that all the moving around had started him bleeding again, but the warm water would help. "Get your shirt first Maes, if you insist on cleaning it, you really don't want it on you."

Well, that was a dismissal if he ever heard one, and he had heard quite a few non-verbal ones in his life. The familiar sting of guilt crept up his chest but he refused to give its goal. With a plainly forced half smile, he rose and swept out of the bathroom without so much as a look back. Roy was being stubborn and in a way, hateful, but he'd pushed him to being curt. Maes would just have to live with the results. Though if Roy thought that the same song and dance was going to work on his wife... he had another thing coming.

Roy looked sideways as his friend left and then ripped the other bandage off before it could get wet, his fingers going to the remaining ones, and he completely didn't care if they were irritating his skin to hell. As soon as he was naked again, he let out a breath, etching an array with the blood on his fingers from the edge of the tub, he more or less heated the water to his chosen scalding. Then he sank almost completely under. He'd be fine with Maes not being there as long as he was in _here_.

* * *

It was nearly an hour from the call exactly when Gracia came to the door, knocking on it. She figured it would be best to not just walk in this time. The tones of speech had been enough of a warning for that.

Maes was leaning against the counter, bloody cloth in one hand crimson colored bleach water in the other, when the knock resounded through the empty space around him. It nearly caused him to jump, and for Maes Hughes to jump over a tiny sound like that was saying something about his state of mind. He dumped the water as fast as he could down the kitchen sink then turned the tap on to let it rinse out the residue that was sure to be caught before he headed towards the door. The cloth was tossed over his shoulder without him really looking, but by his skill he figured it would land safely behind the counter. His shirt was worse for wear, but thankfully only minute traces of red were scattered across the cloth. He pasted a small smile on his lips and opened the door.

"Early even." He bent to kiss her forehead. "Come on in. Forgive the mess, you know how us men can't clean to save our lives."

Gracia stepped inside, letting him close the door, then she ran evaluating, worried eyes over him quickly, not missing the blood on him. Nor the rather strong smell of bleach, even over the food in her hands. "But you were cleaning up anyway." She cast a smile up at him. "Where should I put this? Kitchen?"

"No!" He called out in alarm before catching himself. "Umm no, that's alright love. I'll take it. Why don't you sit down a moment? I’m sure you've a couple of questions before we go see Roy. I know he'll hate me for talking about him while he's not in the room but I feel it only fair to brief you as much as I can on what to expect." He took the rather large dish from her hands and made his way back to the kitchen. Careful to sidestep the soiled rag he sat the dish onto the newly cleaned counter though if one looked closely enough there could be seen some small trace of oddly colored grit and slime just off to the back. 

Gracia frowned a little, staring after her husband for a moment before moving to sit. That had been something akin to panic. Yes, something was very wrong here, and apparently it was revolving around Roy... What could possibly have happened?

Maes lingered in the kitchen, trying to regain his composure. Maybe it was the lack of adequate sleep or food... or something… but he was sure panic-mode wasn’t what he was wanting to convey to the love of his life who rarely saw him even close to this state. He took a deep breath then entered the living room again, the same wan smile adorning his lips. "No trouble out of our little angel then? You are a bit early after all."

Gracia got back up almost immediately, eyes far too sharp. "Love, she's a bit upset not to have seen you last night, but she was calm enough this morning. Now, what happened?"

"That's the woman I know and love. Always quick to the problem and more so to the answer. Remind me again why you married me?" He was trying to stall, and of course he knew Gracia wouldn't take kindly to that tactic, but he had reservations about telling her something so horrible this early in the morning... ever! Though if he kept it up then Roy wouldn't get the much-needed help. "Roy was attacked two days ago Gracia."

"Because I love you." She shook her head. "Now who could anyone hurt him badly enough he'd need a doctor in the first place, and where's the body?"

"Best not do that dear." Maes closed the distance between them and took a hold of her hand. "Believe me, when I tell you that bringing something like that up will not be a good idea. Roy has always been an odd bird, love. Always following his own tune no matter him joining the military. Sure, he's made certain concessions to get where he is today but... back when we were young and the war was still raging Roy was a very different person. Someone that hurt him long ago had come back." Well, Maes wasn't sure _hurt_ was the proper term for it. Scared the hell out of might better fit but it was an easier method to explain things, sort of. "From what I’ve been told and pieced together on my own, Roy was attacked shortly after he returned home. Kimblee, the man whom attacked him, did his level best to get under Roy's skin and into his head. It worked, and Roy was essentially powerless to stop him. He didn't make it to the snap even when he brought himself out of whatever hold Kimblee had over him." He steered her towards the hallway, careful to keep himself between her and the kitchen. Even though the blood and debris had been clean he still didn't want her in there, for the same reason he didn't want Roy in there. If he could stand and work through the muck and be nearly overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness, pain, and insanity... then so could they. "It was quite _ugly_ to say the least."

She looked to her husband, then fell quiet. She was sure she'd see soon enough exactly what he'd meant. She'd just prepare for the worst though. Apparently, whoever hurt Roy was still up and running around.

They stepped into the dimly lit bedroom without trouble but Maes hesitated. "I'm not going to say that this will be easy nor hard considering your history, but I will say that I wished neither of you have to go through this. Just remember that he is hurt, a bit scared, and ready to lash out at any sign of perceived danger. He's not too jumpy, but I still don't want to startle or upset him any more than need be." With that said he released his wife's hand to go knock on the bathroom door. "Roy. Gracia is here."

Roy, having heard the knocking at the front door, had slipped into a _very_ defensive mode almost immediately. He had gotten together one of the darker, non-blood based materials in reach, knowing that he couldn't keep using his blood like that, and had his hand on the edge of the array, eyes narrowed on the bathroom door as he hunkered down in the water. He was almost sure the person on the other side wouldn't hurt him, but he knew that no matter who it was, it wasn't just Maes, and therefore he simply _had_ to be ready. 

Some little voice in the back of his head told him he was overreacting, and that he really shouldn't be on guard, but he couldn't help himself. He kept his hand on the array, sinking a bit further into the soothing warmth, though now he was thinking of a couple dozen ways to use it for himself. "I think I changed my mind." His voice was barely loud enough for Maes to catch, but damned if he could help it.

Gracia stepped forward with a thin frown. This wasn't at all what she expected to have to deal with when she'd been phoned earlier. At worst, she thought the two of them had gone drinking and had gotten themselves into some sort of trouble. She'd been worried sick that something had happened to her husband, only to get the rather early phone call to find out it was Roy that was the man in need. Apparently when dealing with one, you dealt with the other, and she had grown accustomed to that. She loved Roy dearly, he was almost like another part of her little family, a fact of which she was more than pleased to always remind him about. Whether or not he took that to heart she never knew. Now he was in need and all she could help wondering is 'What did he do this time?' It wasn't his fault that he'd been attacked, and she was more than ashamed of her thoughts. But she couldn't help wonder just who from the man's past would want to come back to hurt him as badly as her husband had let on. And did she truly want to know? Of course, she would have to be told the real problem before she was going to be able to start the healing process. It's just that she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Maes glanced over his shoulder and gave a small nod before pushing the door open slightly. "Roy." He answered softly. "You have every right to change your mind about this but Gracia is only here to help. You and I both know that she wouldn't hurt you. Just give her a chance like you've given me. I'm not going to go anywhere during this so you don't have to worry."

Oh dear, Roy thought she would hurt him?! The incident from a few years ago came crashing through her thoughts, which only deepened her frown. She didn't mean to actually do anything more than teach the man his lesson about coming after her loved ones. Now it seemed even that small show of force on her part was going to hinder her in this situation. She wasn’t going to get anywhere by just standing still and being quiet, so she took the initiative to step closer to the door without going in. "Roy. I'm pretty sure that you dearly wish that I wasn't here, but I am, and don't think I'm going anywhere just because you've decided that you can live without my help. I won't accept that, and neither will you, because from the feeling I'm getting from both your home and my husband we _both_ know that you need some form of help. You clearly do not wish to see a doctor, nor have one come to see you. I am the next best thing, and frankly the last option. Try to understand that I'm not here to cause you more hurt, just help."

"I’m not... worried about me. It's just not a good idea now." He hunkered down lower, hearing the strain in his own voice. God, why was this such an ordeal? He'd never been so flame happy before, but now he couldn't help but be on full defensive, which for him tended to be fully offensive. "It's really not... I thought I'd handle this better Maes..."

Caught between agreeing with his wife and wanting to protect his best friend, it was _not_ a place Maes wanted to be. This wasn't going to work, but for one fleeting moment he thought he'd had the answer with Gracia. He gave her a weak smile and shook his head. "I... I guess this wasn't such a good idea."

Gracia's expression didn't change much except for the hard gleam she got in her usually soft eyes. She shook her head in reply. "No, not like this it won't. Roy Lariel Mustang you listen and you listen up good young man. I am not some flunky that comes when called. I am your best friend's wife and what I would like to think is your friend as well. I will not be tossed away like some used tissue because you're in a mood and don't want to deal with your problems. I do not work that way and neither do you."

Roy twitched a little with that and there was a slight sizzle before he swept his hand, eyes closed tight as he tried to reign himself in. "I don't want to risk hurting you Gracia." His voice was really small, and he curled back into a corner of the tub, the now burned in array still in reach.

"Roy, you didn't hurt me back then, and even though you think you might you won't now. I am your friend and whether you like it or not I'm coming in." She glared at her silent husband and pushed him aside to enter the bathroom. It too was dimly lit but she didn't need the light to find her target. She didn't move any closer. "I'm not leaving."

He shrank further into the corner of the tub, one finger tracing blindly over the lines of the array as he eyed her. He was completely tense, sinking back into the shadows made by the curtain of the tub. He mentally smacked himself for the incredibly wary reaction, but he couldn't help it.

Maes was seriously fearing for his wife's life and his friend's sanity by this point. Roy was like a cornered animal, ready to strike out with deadly force. He wasn't ready to be a single parent or lose the biggest chunk of his heart either. "Roy, it'll be alright. She's here to help. You asked her to come remember? All she needs to do is check your wounds."

She felt the despair wafting off of her husband and could very clearly sense the powerful flame energy that Roy commanded with a snap of his fingers. This was a very volatile situation and she'd been a little less than prepared for it. But now that she was here she wasn’t backing down. 

Roy relaxed a fraction as he heard Maes' voice, and he moved enough for the overheated water to splash a bit as he more or less lunged to latched onto Maes' hand the moment the man eased into reach. He didn't want to hurt Gracia, but god... He wanted to get her away from him _so_ badly. "I know..." His voice was positively tiny.

"In order for this to work, I'm going to have to take stock of your injuries." This was slowly starting to sink in, what her husband had been hinting at. This was not ordinary attack, this was something far worse. Idly, she wondered if she even had the proper tools to handle this alone. But she wouldn't let down her friend nor lose her husband's confidence in her. She'd been too long out of practice and Roy was in need. Bad day didn't begin to describe today.

Maes bent beside the tub as his thumb ran over the back of Roy's hand. He needed to calm him down so Gracia could get close enough to actually help. Though he did wish, in this _one_ instance, that she wasn't so headstrong and _damn_ good at her job. If this kept up he was going to have to get the burn cream.

From that angle, Gracia could see few of Roy's wounds, and his wet hair obscured the livid bruise on his face as he ducked his head, trying to get himself under control. "See why I said no before? I didn’t think it'd be so bad with her." It was a murmur, and he reeled Maes in with the hand in his grip, nearly quivering with the tension of keeping himself from slamming his hand down on the array.

Maes was going to have to be patient with both of them. His wife needed to do what she came for and Roy needed to let her. So why did he not want either to reach their goal? Probably because somewhere along the way someone had to get hurt. Isn't that how it always ended up? One would be hurt by the other while trying to receive help. Help was given then the other injured party would leave with guilt and pain. Some time later the first hurt party would eventually seek out the second to apologize and everything was supposed to become happy again. Though with these two he doubted Gracia would live past the pain. He remembered all too well the horrors he'd seen from the war. "Maybe we should get you dressed first, then let Gracia take a look at the most obvious wounds?"

Roy tightened his fingers on Maes' hand, trying to focus on his friend as he took a few long, shallow breaths. He shouldn't be like this! He shouldn't be such a mess! He was almost fine earlier, and this was what a person would call an extreme over-reaction. "I just... need to calm down."

"I believe that is a wonderful idea. You should get dressed, you'll feel less exposed. I'm not helping the situation by being the antagonist in your mind's eyes so I believe I shall see about setting up something to eat. Maybe then you might be willing to accept my presence here... and maybe allow me to help." Without a second glance, she turned and hurried out of the bathroom with something that oddly looked like tears sparkling in her eyes. She was right, she wasn't prepared enough for this. She didn’t expect a broken man to mend. She expected Roy Mustang, bloody arrogant good-hearted idiot that he was. She'd forgive him, but would she forgive herself?


	5. Chapter 5

Maes felt a part of him cry out when she practically ran out the door. He should have explained things better, should have prepared her... should have had the fight with Roy just a scant hour before she arrived. He felt he caused this unnecessary conflict between Gracia and Roy and there wasn’t much he could do to mend the rift. He looked at Roy sadly. "That didn't go to well."

"I'm sorry." He put his hands against Maes' with the pained murmur, slowly relaxing now that it was just the two of them. His grip didn't ease off though. He was more or less huddled on that side of the tub. "I did my best to calm down."

"I know you tried. Clearly this was a bad idea amid a long line of bad ideas. But really Roy. It's Gracia. She'd sooner throw herself to those damned chimeras than hurt you." He tugged at his hands until they were free to wrap around slightly trembling shoulders. There was nothing to say and for a long moment nothing passed either's lips. That was until Maes looked down into the tub to note the color of the water. Only the color of the water wasn't what caught his attention, the color of the tub was. He stiffened slightly and pushed back to look down at his friend. "Roy, please tell me that you were _not_ going to channel that towards Gracia."

He ducked his head, eyes closed tightly. He didn't want Maes to turn around and leave him alone now. "I made it when I heard the door. It was just a reaction. I'm sorry." It was more plea than apology really. A bit of a desperate one at that. "I tried to calm down, I really did."

He was actually angry, truly angry. How could his best friend even _think_ of doing something like that? The man wouldn't hurt any innocent let alone an innocent woman without proper provocation. And all Gracia did was do as she was asked _by Roy_ no less! And yet the flame alchemist was so close to the edge of insanity that he would have set his precious wife, mother of his beautiful daughter, ablaze in a panic. What the hell was wrong with him? How did Maes let it degrade this far... and could he fix it before it was too late to save either one? With a gentle hand, he cupped Roy's chin to bringing his watery eyes upwards to meet his own.

"You need help. Repeat, _you need help_. You were going to hurt Gracia because of this. Think about it Roy, you wouldn't hurt her no matter what the sweet woman did. Hell, she practically ran you through and all you did was laugh it off after getting over the initial shock. _We_ all laughed about it. But you almost killed her. I don't have any illusions about what you did during the war. I’ve seen the results... and I do not want Gracia to end up like that. Just as I do not want to have to protect her against you. She is your friend as well you know. She's seen you in just about every situation you and I have been in, and let’s not forget she was the one that took those incriminating photos of our naked asses that night. Though I do believe we have one of her dancing around in the skimpy maid's outfit you bought as a gag gift for our wedding."

He couldn't meet his gaze, and he blinked a few times as he felt tears leak free, eyes bleak. "I didn't. I didn't hurt her." It was a whimper, and he put his hands on the edge of the tub, blinking at the tears that wouldn't quit. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." If anything, that small interaction had done more to drag Roy down to wherever he'd been at right after Kimblee had left him than anything else had until then. "I need clothes... so I can try again, please?" He didn't care how completely pitiful he sounded now, just wanting to be hidden from the chin down so that there was some hope of him not panicking like he had when she'd first gotten here. If he'd actually carried through with the damn impulse... He would never have forgiven himself for it.

Maes nodded. It was the best thing to do. Gracia was right, it would make him feel less exposed and vulnerable. Something that Roy had in spades right now. It was still strange to interact with this cracked version of the man he was so used to being around. Mustang would face and challenge head-on with wit and charisma, while this Roy was too worn and weary to face a housewife. He mentally slapped himself for that statement since Gracia was so much more than just a mere housewife. She was a damn good nurse, and level thinking, calm in any crisis... hell she helped deliver her own daughter. "Come on. I'll help you into the bedroom." He stood and offered his hand. "Then we'll see about feeding you. You're too skinny as it is. And yes I'm contradicting myself from earlier, but I'm allowed."

He took his hand, extracting himself from the tub, though he wavered as he stood, the rush of comparatively cold air causing him to shiver violently. He couldn't stop the tears though, and he bit his rather abused lower lip. "I'm so sorry." And he couldn't seem to stop himself from the apologies. He was absolutely horrified that his first reaction was to strike out. 

"I'm not the one you should apologize to. Gracia would appreciate it you know. I'm sure she wants to express her sorrows to you as well. She's a good woman. You ought to give her a chance." He calmly pulled Roy to his side and looped an arm around his waist. Picking up a towel along the way he steered his friend into the bedroom then onto the bed. The remains of their 'wake up call' still littered the bedside but it wasn't going to get in their way for now. He slowly began to towel the shivering figure off before tucking the towel around the man's lap. Maes turned towards the dresser and closet for something simple and easy to put on. What he found was a long sleeping shirt that he was pretty sure came from Roy's mother some years ago, a comfortable looking dark green robe and the necessary undergarments. Boxers were handy and Roy had plenty of them, now all Maes had to do is help get them on. Oh _that_ was going to be fun.

"I will... I didn't hurt her, I made sure I didn't..." He couldn't really focus on the present just now, just caught up in the events of a moment before still, and he took a deep, ragged breath, trying to focus. He did blink a few times when he realized Maes was standing in front of him with an armload of clothes though.

"No, you didn’t, and we are both eternally grateful that you have restraint. But you came so close that it scares me. Not scared, _scares_. You don't realize what you are doing. I understand, but still I can't help but shiver with the thought of what could have been. You didn't, she's fine, and now we need to get you dressed."

He blinked a few times to try and fight off a new rush of tears before he nodded a bit, extending his hand for one of the pieces that Maes had in his hands. "Yes, let's get me dressed."

Maes paused a moment when a wafting breeze carried the scent of the city outside into the dim room. It was shaping up to be another beautiful day, more warmth. Wait, warmth? That was Mustang's deal, not his, but suddenly he felt like it was his as well. He smiled and shook his head as he settled the clothing just to Roy's side. He leaned over to embrace his friend, "It's going to be a warm day." He didn’t really understand why he said it but once he did he felt better. He picked up the first article of clothing, the boxers, and knelt in front of the smaller man. "Welp, first things first."

He couldn't help a little quirk of his lips with that, a rather pathetically sad smile, but the urge to cry eased a little. His friend wasn’t going to hold his reactions against him. "Afraid I won't get them on this time either?" He moved his feet to accommodate the action, feeling a bit too tired to care.

"Well, these are one of the largest pairs you own. I take back what I said about you gaining weight. You're freaking skinny as hell and not gaining an ounce. I'm not sure I like that too much." He said through huffs as he eased the material up his friend's legs until his hands met the mattress top. He looked up at Roy, "Brace against my shoulders and let’s see if we can get these on? If not, then the nightshirt and the robe will be fine."

He quirked his lips a little, an almost wry expression, and he did as suggested, making room for Maes to get the material under him. "I'm not that skinny..." Not that he had anything to spare... It was like the man didn't eat.

"Oh please. You’re a pole and we both know it. I thought I was lean but you're making me look bad. Not to mention the height difference. I'm beginning to wonder about your health." He chuckled and slid the boxers the rest of the way up. With only a slight hitch over the rise of his friend's backside, in which he had to tilt himself forward, they went on rather smoothly. He helped Roy back onto the bed and went for the nightshirt. "Arms up if you please."

He followed the direction without really thinking about it. "There isn't anything wrong with my health... I just need to stop skipping lunch..." Seeing as he wasn't sure of the last time he'd even eaten lunch in the first place, it seemed like a rather sound idea.

"And dinner, and oh, maybe the occasional breakfast? I don't think I've ever seen you eat at the office unless Hawkeye forces something on you. The only time you really get a good meal in you is when you're over at the house or on one of your famous dinner dates with the locals. You'd think a wise man like yourself would know better than to let their body starve. Your brain is nice and all but it needs energy just like the rest of you does." He finished dragging the nightshirt over Roy's head and settled it around his waist. It was definitely something he never thought he'd ever see on his friend but all in all it wasn't too bad. 

"I almost always get breakfast and dinner." It was a murmur, and he lowered his arms, sighing a little. "Truly, I do... I just catch drinks at work is all, coffee, hot chocolate, juice, whatever is floating around."

"Coffee, juice, whatever is floating around. Yes, I can see that's a nutritious meal alright. I believe my next mission is to fatten you up. Or at least get those adorable chubby cheeks you used to have back." He reached a hand up and patted Roy's unblemished cheek. "Now, the only thing left is the robe. Think you can face her now?"

"Yes... I think I'm calm enough now..." He offered Maes his hands for him to put the robe on him, and he studied the floor near the bed. "I don't need fattening up, I'm not ten anymore."

"So says the stick." Maes kidded gently slipping the robe around thin shoulders. Yes, he noticed they were thin now. Broad, yes, but they lacked the meat behind the man. Maybe it was just him being overly protective or some such rot, but Roy needed taken care of right now and so far he was being the mother hen. Though, as soon as Roy got over whatever it was against Gracia, she would more than likely step in without hesitation. She was by far better at being a mother hen than he was.

"I'm not a stick." He dropped his hands after the robe was on, the material stinging on his currently uncovered wounds. "Either way, I want to eat _now_ so could we, maybe?" He lifted his gaze to Maes, stopping just shy of meeting his eyes.

"Anything you say." He leaned over again and grasped his friend around the waist, hoisting him up to his feet. He opened his arm to expose his side for Roy to wrap his arms around him. "Whatever Gracia brought, it smells wonderful. Hopefully, she brought enough to feed an army because you're not stopping on one helping 'Roy Lariel Mustang'." Maes did his best impression of Roy's mother as he could with a straight face. Of course, it didn’t last long before he started snickering.

"My middle name is girly." He wrapped his arms around Maes without hesitation with the invitation. Sliding into a tight grip in no time flat, which meant that there would have to be a bit of coordination involved in getting him to the other room.

"Your mother was an odd bird as well. I'm just glad my mother disliked yours at the time of my birth. I'm not sure I could live down a name like Lariel. How you survived all these years with it, I'll never know. Of course, you being the witty guy that you are and all, I'm sure it wasn't much of a burden." They successfully made it out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Now they just needed to get past the kitchen and to the couch.

"Could we lock the door before sitting, please?" He closed his eyes, letting Maes move him past the kitchen. At least he didn't get hit with his smell again this time. It was more of a relief than he'd thought it would be.

Gracia had settled herself in one of the overstuffed chairs sitting opposite Roy's couch sat a bit straighter and looked at them both over the rim of her glass. "I locked it awhile ago. Never like leaving doors open myself unless Maes is home." She sat her glass down beside a bowl of what looked to be meat stew and homemade bread. Two identical bowls sat on the small coffee table as if their users were fully expected at just that time. "I'll be in the kitchen taking care of the few dishes I saw piled beside the sink. Must have been your dishes the day before since it's just a plate and a couple of glasses. You two eat up and let me knew how you like the bread. It's a new recipe." She moved past the two and disappeared into the kitchen before either could protest.

Dark eyes flickered open with the comment, and he barely caught her evaluating glance before she was out of the room again. He followed her with his gaze, never once loosening his grip on Maes. "I suppose I'll try this again after we eat then."

Maes nodded and settled his friend onto the couch. He brought his friend's hand to the robe covered lap, then placed the bowl of warm stew against his palms. "She seems a bit shaken up, but otherwise fine. A little food in you will help calm your nerves, I know it will mine." He grinned when he turned back to his own bowl. "She does make the best homemade bread. Something her father taught her when she was just a girl. Also gave her her right hook."

"I think I'll be glad to never experience the latter thank you, the bruise you had when you two were dating was enough of a warning for me at the time." He picked up the bowl, collecting the spoon that had been more or less spinning around in it as he started to eat, slowly, as he completely focused on the warm dish in his hands. He was being a bit more obsessive about warmth than he usually was by any definition of it.

"That night was _very_ educational. I'm glad I stole that kiss." Maes said around a bite of stew and bread. "She eventually said yes, so I won in the end."

"Only because I decided you were worth my time. And that fist to the face wasn't for the stolen kiss _Maes_ ," Gracia wasn't visible but the glare shone perfectly through her voice. "It was because your hands had a mind of their own."

Roy adjusted his position on the couch, shifting the bowl carefully to keep from spilling as he took the weight off his butt, instead having it more on his legs. "And that would be the other reason I never flirted with her. Her hearing is uncanny." Roy was still focused intently enough on the food he was barely paying attention to the conversation he was part of.

They could hear Gracia tsk loudly to herself and caught something that sounded strangely like, "So not my type, couldn't handle a strong woman anyway." But afterward, the only sounds from the kitchen were the running water and the clinking of dishes. Gracia practically melded within that little area, making it as if she wasn't really there. It wasn't like she was particularly jumping at the chance to confront Roy again. She wasn't as fool hearted as that. Besides, she knew exactly what he could do and just how thin a line she was walking. Things needed to be settled between them or nothing would be accomplished. 

Maes chewed on the last of his bread thoughtfully as he watched Roy. Of course he knew this was going to take a long time to resolve and was in it for the long haul, but he wondered about the other man's mentality. There was almost nothing left of the self-sure character that readily identified in the Colonel as Roy Mustang. It was all cracked and falling apart like some dilapidated building in need of reconstruction. This is what was left for him to work with. It wasn't much, he was pretty sure all the pieces would never be found, and he was more than willing to hold them in place with bare hands if there was any chance that his best friend would return to how he was. "I'm not sure you would have survived her father. I barely did and the man _liked_ me."

"Yes, well, you survived my mother, a person could survive anything after that." He didn't look up, focused on sponging the bowl of the last remnants of stew. He was positively starving, and he'd eaten his food with a careful deliberation that left nothing in the bowl when he finally finished. "And flirting isn't the same as trying to date."

"And that's why you are still single my friend. You go about thinking that the two are completely unrelated." He gave him an amused smile. "Really shouldn't flirt with those that you can't possibly see yourself with in a romantic, or platonic for that matter, relationship. It does neither party any good to get mixed signals. Of course, if you prefer to stick with your usual formula of getting dumped or dumping every other week... well I can't very well take away your hobby." Maes had almost moved to his feet when his wife came into view with two more steaming bowls topped with more bread. He studied her face as she placed the bowls on the coffee table and cleared away the empty ones, careful not to touch Roy or venture too close for that matter.

Roy shook his head a little, tucking his feet more carefully under himself as he collected the new bowl, apparently focusing on that almost immediately, still only paying that abstract attention to his surroundings. He didn't really tense up when Gracia was near this time. "I can't really see myself with anyone anyway, so it isn't that much of a problem."

"Hmmm… I'm not sure that is the case. I think you just enjoy skirting around commitment." That was the only reply his friend received from him as he to took to his own bowl of soup. He found it particularly ironic that he was talking about commitment to the famous hound dog of Central. Poor Roy, he could have any girl, or guy for that matter, that he wanted and yet still couldn't find that one special person, or persons, that would make him happy for the rest of their lives. Maes was the lucky one in that respect, he found Gracia. Or rather, was clobbered over the head by the woman.

"I have nothing against commitment." He shook his head a little, a smile flitting over his face. His friend was so oblivious sometimes. So completely oblivious. The people he most trusted were inaccessible, so he'd simply do without. He'd been working on that premise for years.

"Well, maybe not but you seem to. That's the point I suppose." Somewhere along the way they'd gotten off the subject of Roy's current problems. Strange how food can effectively distract people from things as serious as murder. Again he watched his wife enter the room silently to provide fresh drinks then slink back out of view. Then again, distraction wasn't exactly what they needed. They needed to resolve whatever issues they could between his wife and best friend so they could all come together and heal Roy. That didn't look like it was going to happen in the near future but if all were willing... they could reach that happy place.

Roy shook his head a little, finishing off the bowl yet again before carefully leaning to put it down, collecting the drink. "It isn't actually, but... that isn't the point either. Everything in my life is about trust. That's all." He shook his head and sipped at his glass. "I'm calm now."

Gracia almost laughed in lost humor. From the kitchen she could hear those two perfectly and it had nothing to do with her great hearing. It was too damn quiet in this place. The walls were too close together for her tastes because they effectively rebounded sound vibrations and scattered them around the entire living area. She bet that she could shut herself in Roy's closet and still be able to hear what those two were talking about. It was all a silly musing of hers since she despised the silence. Only one of three true fears of hers, silence. _Food to calm the savage beast._ She thought grimly nearly biting her tongue in an effort to atone for calling Roy a savage beast. Cautiously, she reentered the living area and skirted the empty chair closest to Roy but farthest from actually being in his personal space. _No repeats of the bathroom._ She would choose to the passive route this time and let all things happen as they happened. But she didn't want it to take too long. She could see the angry looking bite marks against Roy's neck and had a fairly good idea that it only got worse as one traveled downwards.

"The meal was perfect darling, as always. Have to make that more often." Maes was obviously trying to be cheerful, but she caught the subtle undertones of worry and stress.

Roy finished his drink and sat it exactly where he'd picked it up from the table at, a slow, precise set of movements. He couldn't bring himself to look at her as he sat back on his legs again, going for the least pained position he could manage. His voice was very quiet. "I didn't mean to react like that... I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I entered the situation with a firm grip on the consequences of my actions and wouldn't have blamed you for whatever you would have done." A small lie to ease the suffering of both parties was a small concession and one she would gladly indulge. "I am, however, sorry that I didn't take stock of the situation before I ran straight into it. So we're both sorry."

He nodded a little, still not looking up, and he took a breath. "I suppose I should let you look at me at some point, shouldn't I?" He leaned into Maes, unhappy with how chilled he felt just thinking about exposing any of his wounds. But they needed to be rewrapped anyway.

She nodded, "At some point I think that would be best. I won't lie, it will probably be very embarrassing to show me and you will more than likely be very uncomfortable during the entire process... but it needs to be done. Neither of us want you to be in pain nor fall ill because of non-treatment of your injuries. I won't rush you in my haste to help, we'll take it very slow and only proceed when you feel you are ready."

Maes echoed the nod and gave Roy's shoulder a gentle squeeze after he slipped his arm around them again. "And I'll be there the entire time to provide some kind of buffer."

Roy quirked his lips in dry amusement, unable to help looking to Maes with that one. "Sometimes I wonder if you two share a mind... It'll be okay. I just panicked a little earlier, that's all." He let out a breath. "Best do it in layers really." He was almost babbling in the soft tone of voice.

Gracia did laugh at that, soft and subtle. "If we share a mind, then I believe Maes needs to explain why he's thinking about dress sizes." It was a bit of a frayed path coming from injury and pain to her worries on weight loss/gain. Just seemed to fit, she supposed, but soon she redirected it back to the straight and narrow. "Layers are a good place to start. Just small things first. I would like to see your arms first and perhaps your feet. I noticed you were limping earlier."

He hesitated, then tugged at the robe, pulling it off his shoulders and letting it hide his lower body from the waist on as he didn't unfold. Instead, he tugged on his sleeve, pulling the left one up, as the material left plenty of room to do it that way. The nail imprints on palm and wrist were really the brightest red, having been bleeding before. He extended his hand to her after a moment's pause. "I doubt I'll be able to be very graceful for a while yet."

When he offered his hand freely she took that as a sign she was allowed closer and took the opportunity to cross the small patch of area and settle herself on the coffee table. The bowl and glass were quickly moved away before she sat but forgotten just as quickly. Her small hands slowly grasped at Roy's thicker one, one cupping the wrist and palm while the other gently glided over the injuries without really touching them. His hand wasn't warm, nor cold, but slightly less than she'd wanted them to be, they were also a bit pruned and clammy. His bath from earlier could explain away both easily but that didn't mean she had to like the clammy bit. She looked over his face and noted that he had a slight fever by the dilation in his pupils and the small sheen of sweat that lined his scalp and hairline. She was fairly sure that wasn't due to the bath since the pupils were telling her of neglect.

Her bottom hand provided a needed warmth to the wrist to help her gauge the extent of the fever, to see if it had spread this far. She was happy to note that though his hand was a bit damp it wasn't giving off excess heat. A good sign that she'd caught the fever in its early stages. Which also meant that Roy was worse off than she'd hoped. Her eyes quickly averted to the appendage in her hands. Her frown showed her displeasure but her eyes were soft in their analysis. Some topical herbs, a light bandage, and some soothing antibiotic spread cream would be best for these.

Roy watched her for a moment before shaking his hand to drop the other sleeve, and he extended that hand as well, somewhat soothed by the hand Maes had on him. This wrist was worse than the other. The burns started closer to the wrist, so they were actually visible from under the fall of the sleeve. The scratches had actually torn a bit too.

From one to the other she gently placed Roy's first offered hand into his lap, then immediately took up the second. She chewed the inside of her bottom lip as she looked over the extent of these injuries. Most were the same but by far this was the worst of the two. She leaned slightly over the back of his hand then bent slightly to the side to look under it. She was looking for something and found it when she reexamined the wrist area of both sides. This was the hand that was the first to be attacked. There were small track lines against the skin that burrowed beneath the burns indicating that whatever type of restraint that was used this hand was the first. The force it would have taken to imprint the tracks onto the skin alone told her as much but the sheer volume of severity that this one had compared to the other was more of a giveaway.

Nodding to herself she lowered that hand as well. She moved from the coffee table and disappeared behind them to retrieve her slightly bulky purse. It wasn't the little brown one she normally carried around with her on days out, this one was a dark gray color and at least double the size. Retaking her seat she opened the bag and began to rummage through the contents. In moments, three small bottles were lined side by side beside her and her bag on the floor at her feet. "These will help. I won't put them on just yet since we've a lot more ground to cover, but just to let you know that I've something for them."

Roy sighed out a breath, then untucked his feet, leaning against Maes as he made it so she could actually have access to the friction burns on his ankles and the explosion burns on his legs. His mind drifted a little. Really, Kimblee was the only other person he'd met who had as much of a fascination for fire as him.

She took great care in letting her hands become accustomed to the temperature of the exposed flesh. She didn't let her warmth overpower his nor vice versa so it was a delicate game of balance. This took a slightly longer time to catalog and gauge because of just how much of the exposed flesh had been injured. No, it didn't travel up the legs, but it did travel around the entire ankle and part of the calf. More topical solution, gauze, and there was a good chance he needed some extensive nerve repair where the restraints were on the ankles. The smaller, more localized burns dotting along the upper leg were slightly blistered but there were no puss rises so it told her that the contact with the heated object, or explosion, as she began to believe they were by the sheer number and shape of them along both legs, wasn't very long and had lost heat after contact. 

He'd only showed her from the knees and elbows out, so the array of hand sized bruises that were from about the knees up weren't exposed. He hesitated a little at this point, then tugged a bit at his pajama top. The silence was keeping this from getting harder than it was.

She sat back, placing her hands in her lap while watching Roy's reaction. He hadn't so much as twitched when she was examining his wrists but she felt the slight tension when she moved along his legs. She had a feeling that if she would have strayed any closer to his lower thighs that she'd be nursing either a sore cheek or asking the creator of all things what went wrong. Roy was like that, he either did things in extremes when stressed or went for the quick solution. Either one was not welcome at the moment, so she was happy enough to wait everything out.

Maes was being surprisingly quiet during the process. He had been both fascinated and amazed at his wife's abilities beforehand, but he never really got to witness her in action beyond their home. He never was able to stomach the wards in which she had worked before they had their daughter, it reminded him too strongly of the war. But now, watching her work her quiet magic on his best friend did its level best in entrancing him in the process. But he was still aware enough to accept Roy's weight with comfort and support and a gentle squeeze here and there as those cream color hands worked against the pale olive.

Roy finally let out a breath, tugging the robe up to cover as much as possible, then he transferred his attention to the long nightshirt. He turned his gaze to Maes, more or less asking him to coordinate his efforts since he couldn’t both hang onto the protective robe and get the shirt off at the same time.

"Best get the shirt then." Maes whispered when he caught the look, moving his hands to rest atop the robe puddled in his friend's lap. It would give Roy a sense of security, he supposed, if he kept his wife from trying to get at the robe. But he knew she wouldn't. Gracia would wait until the end of time or until her patient desperately needed the help (ie. dying/passed out) before she would take their security from them. She had the patience of a saint and the will of a god. Handy that she was on their side, really.

"Yeah..." Roy tugged the shirt off, having to lean onto his feet a bit when he tugged it from under himself, then he sat back, tugging it fully off. He wasted no time dragging the robe up against his chest, hiding the red that was all over him. Even a glimpse had been enough to tell that he had more injuries waiting to be looked at. The burns were the worst from the elbows up, accompanied by bruising along his collarbone.

Again she kept her face neutral though her alarm was blaring full gale in her ears. _Kimblee_ was a truly horrible person to have done something like this to another human being and it made her feel worse knowing that she cared deeply for the current victim. She had always been a quiet pacifist during the war, willing to help anyone that came to the hospital rather than be bigoted and turn away someone just because they were on 'the wrong side'. She'd also seen some very horrific things in her time as a nurse. Gunshot wounds, beatings, alchemy accidents, and more than her share of deaths. Staring at the deep purplish green, nearly black, spreading from one side of Roy's torso to the other with scratches, burns, bite marks, and what looked to be a razor or knife track, Gracia Hughes though she might actually be able to take a life if she ever had clear shot at Kimblee.

Roy took a breath and lowered the robe so it was only fully obscuring his lower body, and he pressed closer to Maes. He dearly wanted to cover back up, but the wounds needed to be assessed. So he'd make himself be fine until he could be calm properly. This meant he shut down his reactions in general, silencing the part of his mind that was even feeling the pain at the moment as he waited. He hadn't cared for the design that Kimblee had seemed to be making on him, though that might have been purely his imagination because of the blade.

She rubbed her warm palms against her knees before she leaned forward to press them against the marred chest. It was horrible, the cuts and bruising and the burns alone made her stomach want to revolt. But she suffered silently, not wanting to cause more discomfort. The bruising wasn't as serious as it looked, spread across the chest as it was. Mostly superficial and nothing underneath. But the deepest purple ones she paid close attention to. Those were the ones that went straight to the muscle and indicated great force or pressure. She prodded at a few of them to measure the damage then moved onto the burns. More burn cream would be needed and definitely some nerve work. They weren't too bad but bad enough to make her worry.

He barely twitched away from the pressure, fingers curled tightly into the robe in his lap, and he shifted until his back was fully pressed against Maes, eyes closed. The scratches... When she touched those, he leaned away. After all, those were the marks that most had betrayed him. Of course, his entire chest had been oiled at one point, so all the wounds there had to be a bit off.

Gracia glanced up when she felt him shy away from her hands but they didn't linger. They returned to the battlefield of injuries to help direct her hands effectively. This was going to take some time and effort to correct all the damage but she had the basics of what they needed in her bag and she was sure her husband would gladly provide anything else she needed. Though she had a feeling that she would be the one going to get them since Roy didn't trust her as he did Maes.

Roy opened his eyes to look at her, pressing closer to Maes without really trying to get away. More like he was trying to seep the comfort straight out of him without need for the intermediary. "You have to... see the other stuff too, don't you?"

She tried to offer a reassuring smile but she knew it was a bit weak from worry, "Yes. I'll need to tend them all if you are to get better. But I won't make you show me now unless you want to. I'm not going to make this any harder on you than it already is."

Maes sought out his friend's hand and cupped it within his own. "It'll be alright Roy. Everything will be fine. She won't hurt you and I'll be right there. Alright?"

Roy made a small sound that could have ranged anywhere from the start of a chuckle to a cut off sob. "I just want this done... I don't want to draw it out. I really don't." He took a shaky breath and unclenched his hand from the robe, the other moving it aside.

"Shh, it's okay. You're not drawing anything out. Take your time. It's important that you are ready for this as much as I am. If you want to wait we will wait." Gracia assured though she was silently supporting him to just let her. This would be terrible for the both of them but it would be over with in moments. Just let her examine the problem then they would set about fixing it.

"No waiting." He shook his head, moving the robe fully aside after taking a deep breath, revealing the hand shaped bruises that underscored the burns trailing the inside of his thighs right up under his boxers.

Maes had seen them all before, the bruises, cuts, burns; but it still made his stomach clench painfully along with his chest. He wanted to kill Kimblee, but he knew that he would have a hard time tracking someone that supposedly was dead. And even harder to kill an alchemist that specialized in explosions. But he figured that one clear shot and he'd pin the man right between the eyes. It made him see red.

Gracia was having a hard time containing her hurt as the tears prickled at her eyes. She ran a hand over them to stop the water from leaking out though. She wanted to remain passive and professional. But this was her friend, her family that was hurt and it hurt her doubly because of it. She never understood how anyone could be so depraved so inhuman to do something like this. But the world was full of people just like that that had no qualms about leaving pain and devastation in their wake. Poor Roy... one had found him. "They go all the way up then?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." Roy let out a breath. "The others go all the way down as well... for the most part." Seeing as Kimblee had been too entranced by the scar he bore, he'd left _that_ area alone after discovery. 

The nurse nodded then went to tug the robe closed again. She didn't need to see the rest to know what she would find. True, she would have to see it to treat it but she had a very good idea what to expect. That left getting the rest of what she needed. More gauze, medical tape, and at least two more bottles of antiseptic. She wanted him numb when she would have to pack his wounds. The less pain the better... and Maes would more than likely have to help. Not something she wanted to share with her husband because she had wanted to spare him seeing his best friend like this. But then again, he'd been with him since yesterday. She was pretty sure he'd seen it all.

Roy accepted the robe immediately, wrapping the material close around him as he shivered. He'd been almost completely still for the examination, but now he was simply freezing. "I'm cold again Maes."

"Can't have that now can we?" The taller man answered with a sad smile. "Gracia… would you mind going to get the covers piled on the bed? You know how Roy is. He can't stand being cold." 

She was more than happy for the distraction. It would give her time to compose herself and prepare for what was to come next. She nodded and jumped to her feet. Soon she disappeared down the hall and into Roy's bedroom without a word.

"I don't usually get cold quite so easily." He curled closer to Maes, turning his body a bit so he could tuck his face against him. "Sure, I get cold easy, but not usually this easy. It’s not winter, no reason for it." 

Maes pulled the man closer to him and settled back into the cushions. "It's probably because you're overtired and stressed. Losing too much body heat like that maybe? But hey, I'm the portable heater here so be quiet already."

That earned a quiet chuckle, and Roy put his considerable grip to use in plastering himself against his best friend again, heedless of his wounds as he set about getting as close as humanly possible. "How can I forget, you're always warm, even when you think you're cold."

"What can I say? I'm a human icebox unto myself. I have way too much fun sticking my hands and feet on Gracia when we're in bed. She makes the cutest sounds when startled." He chuckled lightly bringing a hand around to rest on Roy's side. "So forgive me if I believe I'm the perfect snowman."

He shook his head, nuzzling in against Maes a bit before the lingering tension seeped away for the moment. It would come back, but he was fine, and Maes was letting him hang all over him. "You've never been an ice-man. If you had, I wouldn't have ever raided your bed."

"Oh you say that now but I remember, distinctly, one summer night when you decided my bed was better. I let you get almost asleep then stuck my hand under your shirt." He was laughing a bit heavier now with the memory. "Never seen you jump so high in my life! Got a good sore back when you dumped me from _my own bed_ but was well worth it."

"You deserved it. I was comfortable, and you up and did that. Besides, you stole my pillow that day anyway, it was only fair I go after it... and unfair for you to use the one occasion you've been cold on me." He huffed, nuzzling closer.

Maes rolled his eyes and seriously considered sticking his chilly hand between the couch and Roy's back for a laugh. _Oh well... another day._ Instead he gently hugged his friend one armed while his other ruffled the man's hair. "I was merely defending my point. You think I'm warm and I think I'm cold. Perspective is everything I suppose."

"Warmth isn't all physical Maes." He shook his head, shivering a little, and he slid so he was more or less settled in his lap, curled up there as he tried to duck the cold. He was, however, wondering about those blankets. Mental warmth really only helped the physical along so far, and it was downright chilly in there.

She had gotten the covers gathered up in record time as soon as she spotted them on the bed but once she had them in hand she was unable to make herself turn around and go back into the living room. She sank onto the mattress and wish for nothing more than an ease of her headache. The bleach fumes hadn't been good for her to begin with and she spent most of her time in that blasted kitchen. It felt so _wrong_ in there but she stayed to give Roy and her husband space. Then the exam itself was a strain on her resolve. How many times did she want to break down or get angry? It would have felt good to get some of that off her chest but it would scare poor Roy half to death. He'd never seen her really upset before, and that one day had been only a glimpse at her fury.


	6. Chapter 6

She heaved a painful sigh, clutched the covers to her chest, then pushed herself back to her feet and went out of the bedroom. She glided down the hallway with light steps and rounded the corner only to stop in shock. Fortunately, it was one of those happy shocks. One that almost had her laughing. The warm feeling bubbling through her chest made her feel ten times better than she had been just moments before. With a smile, she padded over. "Looks like someone decided to get comfortable. Now where is that infamous camera of yours husband dear? This scene is too cute to pass up."

The words earned Gracia a muted glare, as Roy muttered low enough only Maes could hear him. "If she starts taking random pictures of me too, I'm going to raid your house and pick apart every single camera I can get my hands on."

Maes grinned cheekily back at Roy. "You'd still never find the negatives!"

"Oh, I see, whispering among yourselves so I can't hear. Two against one... how unfair." She plopped the covers over both their heads before straightening them out on Roy's body, tucking it around his chest and feet. "I think some tea is in order."

Roy wiggled closer, settling the covers a little as he put his face against Maes' throat. "Tea is good. And I didn’t say anything about the pictures, just the cameras. There is a limit to how many cameras I can have pointed at me."

"Ack! Gracia! He's threatening my cameras." He whined immaturely. "Make him stop."

She rolled her eyes at her husband's antics and shook her head as she swept towards the kitchen again. She braced herself to suffer the smell of cleaning products and called back, "Roy, don't threaten your best friend. It's not nice to break someone's toys."

"Just take apart, not break." He sulked down, hiding in Maes' lap, nuzzling a little as he resettled himself. "And you aren't supposed to tell on me Maes, honestly, what if I told Hawkeye on you when you did something that bugged me?" He smirked a little.

"She'd probably just stare at you in disapproval then shoo you away to do more paperwork." Honestly, did he think he was afraid of Hawkeye? Damn skippy he was but he knew her well enough to know that something as childish as this little game would get Roy nothing more than a whack over the head.

"She's not that dry... I mean, well, you didn't get to see the Hayate thing, did you?" He huffed a little, closing his eyes as he curled his hands loosely into Maes' shirt. He stopped just shy of actually kneading at him a bit in content at feeling warm and safe for the moment.

"Hayate... Hayate. Oh! You mean her little dog companion? Hmm no, not see but hear. Was kind of a surprise to be told that Riza had taken in a pup. Not that she couldn’t or shouldn’t... but weird all the same."

"The dog peed on the floor almost right after she got him. She shot a round at the poor thing that had him pinned to the wall, and said, with quotes mind, 'Hayate has a strict mommy now'." He snickered softly.

What he would have paid to be able to witness that first hand. But the visual the statement brought up was nearly as good as the real thing. Maes chuckled. "Poor mutt."

Gracia managed to work her way through the bleach, barely gagging at all this time around, to make the tea. She found some honey and sugar cubes in the pantry and hoped that they wanted cream as well since she placed all the gatherings onto a tray she'd found underneath the sink. When the water was boiled she poured it into the serving pot, gathered the cups and went back into the living room. 

"I'd have to agree. I'd be scared to even consider what she'd do to potty train any offspring she has if she's that harsh on a puppy." He shook his head, then settled, making a soft hum in the back of his throat. He'd calmed almost back to where he'd been before Gracia showed up.

"Here we are gentlemen. I brought out sugar, honey, and cream. I know how Maes takes his tea but I'm unsure of your preferences Roy. You don't come over nearly enough." She sat the tray on the coffee table then quickly grabbed up the empty bowls and glasses from earlier. She hated going back into the kitchen but she was only there a moment before retaking her seat in the chair. She sat at the edge of the cushion and prepared three cups, waiting for what Roy would like.

Roy blinked at her a couple times, more or less still tucked against Maes. "Sugar and honey." He made no move to free himself from the cocoon, nor to free a hand so that he'd be able to get the cup in a moment.

She gave him a pleased smile and proceeded to mix in the honey, then the sugar atop it. It was almost like her cup except she preferred three teaspoons of cream as well. She set the steaming cups on the table in front of the two men then took up her own so she could lean back into the chair. She stared at them over the rim of her cup with a dreamy smile. They looked so cute together. Kind of like Elysia and Maes when they camped out on the couch in the den after a long day of work and play. How she wished for that camera.

Roy considered the cup seriously, and it was almost as though he were trying to think it to himself. He didn't very well want to actually go _get_ it. After a moment, he turned his _look_ on Maes, clearly expecting him to collect both cups.

"Oh you are hopeless Mustang. Utterly _hopeless_." Maes huffed with a quirk of his lips. Of course he went after the cup anyway... when the hell did he turn into the sop here? Oh well, so he was trained. Gracia had done it before and now Roy. What was next? "Drink your damn tea then." 

Gracia snickered in her cup but didn't say anything. She thought this was perfect material to use later when she wanted to get something out of her husband that he wasn't readily willing to give up... like his knives in the bedroom for the night. Or maybe something a little less _obvious_. Useful information indeed.

Roy unraveled his fingers from Maes' shirt and cupped the glass in his hands, giving his friend this half smirk, half smile. Then he sipped at his glass. "You like me hopeless, admit it. You wouldn't know what to do if I was actually _not_ lazy."

"Die of shock probably. The day Roy Mustang is productive is the day I'll keel over." Maes declared and reached for his own cup, mindful not to upset Roy or his cup. "Actually, I think maybe you should shock poor Hawkeye one of these days. I'd like to see her flustered, just once."

"Well if you're going to keel over, then I can't do it, can I?" He shook his head a little, tisking softly as he sipped his cup, peering into the dark liquid. "And that simply wouldn't do at all, I like you around, thank you very much."

"How about if I promise not to actually die? Just maybe faint or something. _After_ , of course, I get to see the startled look on Riza's face. Poor woman is too stern." He sat back taking a sip of his own tea. Rich and full of cream, just perfect. He sent his wife a warm smile and took another pull of the slightly chilled liquid. Another reason he loved cream in his tea, it made the tea just right for sipping.

And that would be the reason that Roy wouldn't put cream in his tea. It brought the liquid down from scalding, and that was simply unacceptable to him. Even if it tasted better that way. "She'd be worse if she knew I could handle it. She doesn't know I actually get the paperwork done within two hours usually... I just don't organize it."

"Organization was never your cup of tea. If you'll pardon the phrase." Maes shot him a cheesy grin as he waggled his eyebrows. He was hoping to keep the comfortable atmosphere for as long as possible. If he could get Roy to actually accept his wife into his safety net, then them taking care of him wouldn't be so stressful later when Gracia would have to start patching him up again.

Roy snickered. "It can be... if I cared. I know where every book in this building is, thank you." Yes... and it really didn't look like much either, more or less a glorified mess.

Gracia hid her quiet laughter behind her hand. It was the same for all men everywhere, except for those rare cases. Organization was never a strong suit in any of the ones she knew. Maes especially. He had his own filing system and it baffled her how he could wade through the sheer volume of _junk_. Men... of course she knew quite a few women that weren't exactly great in that field either. She would often find many of them in the military too... which was hilarious.

Roy leaned closer to Maes, tilting his head so he could talk in his ear softly. "I do believe she's laughing at me. Possibly you as well. After all, you and I have the same method of organization last I checked." A little smirk crossed his face.

Maes glanced over at his wife and noted that she was indeed laughing, albeit quietly and trying valiantly not to let them see her. He didn't see what was so funny now that he was the one being laughed at. He felt kind of indignant and wanted his revenge, or at least to make her stop laughing at them. Well, him. Okay so maybe he was being childish, but who likes being laughed at bar a comedian? He gave his friend a conspiratorial smirk. "Seems that isn't fair. Think we should remind her about the maid outfit? Would get her to be quiet." He was going to pay dearly for this when he got home.

Roy finished the last of his tea, then laughed quietly and shook his head, resting his cheek against his shoulder. "No, no, best to just let her now that we know that she is _laughing_ at us. No need to remind her of any of that." He made sure she could hear him this time.

"Remind me of _what_ exactly gentlemen?" She asked narrowing her eyes. "And at least I tried to be discreet about it. But surely you can't expect me to keep a straight face when you both talk of organization. Neither of you have it or are _extremely_ inept in the art." 

“There is more than one form of organization." He huffed, nuzzling into Maes as he somehow got the man to take the cup so he could slide his hands back down to the sides of his shirt, where he moved a bit until the cloth was sufficiently caught around his fingers.

"Yes, but organization itself has to be represented in a more _organized_ manner. Not that deathtrap you two call your filing systems. It's amazing you can find anything. I came by Maes' office a few years ago and thought I was in the mailroom. There were papers and books everywhere and his desk was swamped with files. It was quite a sight actually." She laughed. "More tea anyone? I could use a refill."

Maes grumbled about two cups and one very lazy best friend but shook his head. "No thank you love. One cup is good for me... _if_ I could ever _finish_ it."

Roy shook his head a little, somehow ruffling the blankets up higher around his shoulders without using his hands, though Maes could feel him squirming lower under them, considering the man was also plastered to him.

"Hopeless I tell you!" It was a joking declaration. Maes wasn't complaining about the level of comfort the whole scene had created for him. Whether it was the same for everyone else he didn't know. He hoped so because he enjoyed it. Probably because it just showed that Roy would be Roy no matter what happened to the man. Nothing, it seemed, was going to keep his spirits down for long. It was just going to take a while for them to be fully restored. 

"You two remind me of my sister's little boys. Inseparable I swear." Gracia commented after drinking down the last of her tea.

For some reason Gracia's comment sent Roy off into laughter. He hid his face against Maes' neck and just helplessly snickered it out. He was a complete pervert, but the earlier conversation had made him wonder just how many ways that could be taken and even with the recent... mess, he was ignoring thoughts about that at the moment, so it was okay.

Maes held onto Roy but squeezed his shoulders. He gave the man an arched eyebrow in question and waited. What was so funny? Gracia's little nephews were practically inseparable and did kind of remind him of Roy and his relationship. They'd been friends for _how_ many years now and were still going strong in the buddy department? Through thick and thin you'd always find them together. For a moment he wondered if it would always be like that... and sent out a silent plea for it to be that way.

He shook his head a little, still snickering softly as he took a couple breaths, feeling his lips twitch. _Why did he think of that?_ Why? _That would be like thinking of the Elrics that way..._ Which immediately set him off again just as he calmed down. 

"Alright... share the joke or I'm throwing a pillow at your head Roy." Surprisingly it was Gracia that said this. She was giggling lightly already for having watched the man crack himself up. It was a funny sight really. And add in that he was currently practically in her husband's lap using him as a human pillow... well it was quite a sight. But she wanted to know what was so funny because the curiosity was killing her.

"I'd like to know too you know. No fair keeping the good stuff to yourself."

He shook his head quickly, managing to compose himself. Must not think dirty thoughts. Especially not _that_ kind. He hummed a little, a small grin on his face. "It wouldn't be funny if I explained."

"Insufferable brat, that is what you are Mustang." Gracia pouted but let it at that. She got her chuckle in watching him so she could let the joke pass. Maybe he'd tell her husband and she could _sweet talk_ it out of him later. For now, she contented herself with another steaming cup of tea.

"You can say that again. Now it's going to be _bothering_ me all day."

Roy huffed and looked to Maes, lips still twitching. "Okay, okay. The earlier conversation we had somehow ended up in there in my head and the Elrics somehow entered into that mess." He looked at him, seeing how long it would take him to work out the cryptic clues.

"The Elrics... and what about our conversation. What do the Elrics have to do with... oh." Maes was a bit ruffled around the edges when he didn't get something right away but the confused expression soon turned to surprise then abject embarrassment to finally settle into humor. "OH! Oh. That's bad Roy. Very, _very_ bad. Funny as sin, but bad." He snickered and shook his head. Definitely not something his wife should have running about in that pretty little head of hers. She might get ideas. He sent her a cheeky grin.

"You. Will. Pay." Was mouthed over her cup.

"Thus why I was set off when she mentioned her nephews." He nodded a little bit and settled down, feeling better than he had all day. A little perversity was simply the perfect uplift to his mood.

Maes couldn't help but shudder at the implications of that statement from his wife. This would not end well for him... or it might. According how he played his cards when they were alone this could go one of two ways. In order to appease her and not say anything about what Roy was thinking he could A) Deny everything and probably end up on the couch for a week. Or B) Offer her something far better to think about and suffer being her good little slave for a few days. He liked the second option far better than the first. He stretched his legs out slightly and sank further into the cushions. "Well... now I'm going to be forced to wash my mind out before I see those two again." He nudged Roy's side. "I blame you of course."

"How do you think I feel? I almost got the thought out of my mind before that. And you know what my next immediate thought was, that wouldn't leave me to _stop_ laughing? _How_?" He shook his head, tucking his face under Maes' chin with a bemused sigh. "I feel better."

"ARG!!" Came the muffled cry before Maes hand shot to his eyes, scrubbing wildly. "Stop. The. _Images._ " The immediate thought was of Gracia's two fourteen-year-old nephews and it was _not_ pleasant. They were cute and all but for the love of all that was right in the world they were family. The next set to assault him were of the Elric brothers. Now that was both funny and mind boggling. Edward was like a son to him but Maes still thought he made a nice image to look at. He'd probably burn in hell for just thinking that but he never thought of the boy as anything more than a son, so no harm no foul he supposed, though he was aware it was twisted logic.

Roy snickered softly. "Now you understand!" A wicked grin was easily felt against Maes' throat. "I'm sure I could easily scar your brain if we continued on this topic, but that wouldn't exactly be nice would it?" He snickered softly. "And you wondered why I cracked up."

"I'm already scarred. _Believe_ me, I am."

"I think I am now rather glad I do not know what you two find so funny. Not sure I would like to have the same reaction as my husband. Besides, I prefer an un-scarred brain thank you." Gracia commented after watching the little scene with her husband. She found guilty humor in that and thought it made up for the inside joke those two shared.

"Lucky woman... My mind hates me. Giving me a visual like that... Though..." He snickered a little and shook his head, closing his eyes. "No, I'll just stop there. Just, yes. Distract me now please."

"Well, there's your problem. Not enough distractions around the place to do the job effectively Roy dear." Came the sing-song retort. Oh yes, now she was having fun at his expense. Something she could get used to so long as they didn't laugh about her again... which she just knew was the case earlier.

"I'd get a book, but that would require moving, and I'm warm right now." Roy huffed, flipping the blankets so she couldn't see him at all but for the blanket covered, Roy-shaped lump that he was in Maes' lap.

She snickered at the pair, getting up to take the dishes to the kitchen. "Has anyone ever compared you to a house cat Roy?" The words were tossed over her shoulder when she was partly to the kitchen.

Maes was barely containing his laughter. Roy was being such a brat it was cute. This was, by far, better than the despondent suffering man from earlier that morning. Gracia might not have helped the situation as much as he hoped but at least they were all getting along just fine. So far so good in his books. He was comfortable, a bit too warm, and suffering because _he_ was the _pillow_ damn it. He sighed dramatically and bopped Roy's nose lightly. "You need a hobby."

"I have a hobby, it involves seeing how complicated I can make dinner without actually needing to use the stove. As I've been fed, this is moot, and I'd much prefer to stay where I am." He looked like he was seriously considering biting the offending finger.

"You need a hobby that doesn't involve annoying your friends then." Maes smirked and bopped the nose again. If Roy could annoy him then he had the right to annoy right back. "Besides you don't _eat_ dinner anyway. You're still too thin."

"I do so..." He continued to eye the finger. Next time he did that he'd actually try for it. "At least five times a week even." He rolled his hands a little in a vague pawing motion. "And I'm not like a cat."

Maes burst out in laughter. "You're kidding me right?! You're _pawing_ Mustang, _pawing_ for cripes sake." He tilted his head upwards and called out, "Gracia? Do you have any string in your purse? I think I found Roy a hobby!" He couldn't let this pass by. It was beyond hilarious and was so going to get used later for blackmail. And if not blackmail, then annoyance value would just have to work.

Roy looked incredibly insulted, and he tugged Maes' shirt flat with an affronted look. Then he moved a hand up and clapped it over Maes' mouth. "Would you stop? I was _not_ doing any such thing. Besides... I don't really care for string."

His eyes shone in mirth and told the alchemist that he clearly didn't believe him, and that he would argue the point as soon as he had his mouth free. Of course, he could get his mouth free by prying the hand away... but licking it was more fun. So he did, one good long lick followed by a chuckle.

He pulled his hand back and gave Maes the ultimate affronted look. "You _licked_ me!" As though he'd never done it before... yeah _right_. This was how Roy knew to keep his mitts to himself.

Maes stuck his tongue out with a mock-disgusted look. "Annn I shhhoulen’t haavve." He drew his tongue back in and shook his head. "Tastes like soap I swear! BLAG. But did get your hand off didn't it? No force needed. I am a genius."

Roy did the most childish thing in reply. He bit the finger that was still hovering in the air before tucking his face firmly out of poking range. They'd make with the bandages soon, he was sure of it.

"Aeeeee! Hey!! You _bit_ me!" The man growled waving his finger around after the bite. Never did any good to wave it around, but come on, that's what people did. The little brat bit him! All he did was lick the little bastard and Roy hauled off and _bit_ him. Oh, that called for retaliation. He didn't know when or even how but he _would_ get him back.

"Children, play nice." Gracia chided from her position on the wall. She'd been leaning there watching the two almost immediately after she'd taken the things to the kitchen. They were big babies, the both of them. But she loved them the all the same... even when they did stupid things. "Otherwise, I might need to put you in time out."

Roy nuzzled at Maes a little, making sure the other man could feel the smirk that was adorning his face. "Quit acting like I bit it off Maes." He curled his fingers back into his shirt subtly, a small insecurity that came out and made it obvious that he was a bit wary of upsetting him even in play.

"Play nice my arse, the boy bit me." He laughed toward his wife. "Plays dirty… and if you were feeling better I'd show Gracia _exactly_ how I won our last argument." He referred to the one they had over one of the Elric's missions. He was angry that Roy kept sending the poor boys out into the worst possible areas the military had to offer and Roy was angry that he didn't see that he was keeping them away from the actively dangerous areas. It almost came to blows but Maes didn't want that to happen... so he did the most unexpected thing. He tickled the bastard. Worked too.

"I was caught off guard." He sighed and drooped a little. The exposed cuts were starting to sting too much to ignore. "I need to get bandaged up."

That effectively sapped the amusement right out of Maes. He returned to his worried state and gently moved Roy up on his chest so he could move the covers back and look at the injuries on the man's chest. "Are you okay?"

Gracia quickly moved back over to the couch to retrieve her ‘purse’. She rummaged in it until she found the topical pain reliever and some of the pain pills she thought would be strong enough for Roy.

"The stinging sensation from the finer cuts is getting a bit much for me to ignore." He sighed out a breath, calmly letting Maes examine him. "I don't think I've started bleeding anywhere, but I don't think it would be good to leave them either. They aren't nearly as bad feeling as when you got here though." And he was tipping back towards babble mode.

"Okay dunderhead, why didn't you tell me you were hurting earlier?! Gracia would have given you this stuff earlier." Maes sounded more worried now that a moment ago. He knew his friend was a bit achy from all the moving around but he didn't think it was too bad since Roy hadn't complained. He could pop him one for being so stubborn. If it wasn't one thing it was another with this guy and frankly Maes was having a hard time keeping up with them all. He gave his wife a thankful smile when he seen the topical spray. He turned Roy slightly to his side so his back was now against his chest. 

"Let's get some of these before we start to bandage you up, alright?" The woman asked quietly, the concern clearly written in her warm eyes.

Roy nodded a little, tipping his head back against Maes' shoulder. "I didn’t say anything because I was feeling better. I don't like where I was very much... I don't like following those threads very much, and it's so terribly easy with that kind of web."

Gracia promptly tuned her friend out as she applied the medicine to the injuries along the chest. He wasn't talking to her anyway and she worked so much better if she could focus primarily on what she was doing. Her additions to their conversation were minor at best so she didn't feel at all miffed over being left out of them. Happened on a regular basis on those rare occasion when Roy would show up for dinner or a casual visit. Though, as she spread the mixture over a particularly bad area, she had to agree with what her husband said earlier. Roy was definitely too thin. He needed good square meals and plenty of rest if he was going to heal quickly.

Maes shifted himself more comfortably against the couch's arm so he could cradle Roy and help his wife if need be. Roy went still under the contact, dark eyes watching her move over one wound after another. He continued talking to Maes. "I mean, it's so terribly easy for me, and I just want to relate this or that, to another thing until it centers back... and I know I shouldn't do that."

"It's what you do... you might not want to do it but you do anyway. Basically could be said about most of what makes you, you. You do things you shouldn't because you do them." Maes paused a fraction of a second. "Does that make any sense?"

"Of course it makes sense. You basically said that because I think in circles you’d be shocked if I didn't think back to what I wasn't supposed to because my track circled me around even though what I picked shouldn't have taken me there."

"And since I can follow that statement with relative ease... I think it's official that we spend way too much time together. Not that I'm complaining. It's like we have our own little language that only we can understand. Useful, if not just a tad weird."

"Just a tad? We've been over this today already, you are outright bizarre, yet you fit in perfectly with the rest of the rather outlandish people I chose to spend most of my life around." He twitched as Gracia moved over a particularly long cut.

"Nice to know I belong somewhere then." He snickered into Roy's ear. His chin came to rest on the man's shoulder and though that was a bit uncomfortable, he was all right with that slight pain. He watched his wife work and wondered if she was ignoring them. She usually did.

"Though, you're the only one that understands me when I talk, on the first try, most of the time. I'm not sure if I should be worried or pleased about that fact." He paused for a long, long moment, and his thoughts took off in a direction he didn't like as he remembered something. "Maes?"

He tilted his head away from Roy's to look at him. "Yes?"

"I really want to talk to you about something after we're done taping me back together." He flexed his hands a little.

Maes was slightly puzzled but agreed readily. "Alright. Now the task of actually getting you taped back together. That's _not_ going to be fun for any of us."

"And that's why I'm saving it for after." He let out a breath. "I'm going to have to lose my blankets, aren't I?" 

Gracia had finished a few moments before and had moved away from the two. She needed to prepare for the heavier of the injuries so that meant dumping the contents of her purse onto Roy's dining table. The application of all the medical creams wouldn't take long, but she needed to dose them all with the same painkiller she'd used on Roy's chest so that would tack on at least half and hour's worth of work. Then there was getting him to take the sleeping pills and some painkillers before she could deal with the major injury. He probably wasn't going to like that one bit, but she saw it as her only course of action. He'd probably hate her when he woke up for lying to him about the little blue and red capsules she held in her hand. She didn't really see a problem with that if it would keep from causing him more pain... though it'd probably kill her heart.

Maes nodded on Roy's shoulder. "Afraid so... and the boxers. She'll have to patch _everything_ up."

He shivered with that, then let out a deep breath. "Right... Well, this is going to not be any fun at all. At least I managed to calm a bit... I don't think another person other than your Gracia would have managed to not get me to overreact again."

"Let's just say it was a long process to this point. Remember you almost toasted her earlier. Not that she's said anything, but I can imagine what she was thinking when she fled the bathroom. But it is nice to see that you're more comfortable with her now." Maes was watching his wife with a slightly curious look. She seemed to be debating with herself over some matter. Could be something to do with whatever was in her hand. He wasn't exactly sure, nor concerned, really. His wife knew what she was doing and he would trust her to make the best decision. 

"Yes, I did notice that Maes. In fact, I'm sure I nearly had a breakdown just because of that." He grimaced a little, then started to tug at his blankets a bit. "Worse than anything else, that."

Maes gave the man a gentle squeeze, pressing him against his chest. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I was a bit upset but I'm over it. You've done your level best to work through this and I'm not only proud, but impressed. Don't let me be an idiot and ruin your good mood."

The decision wasn't easy to reach but in the end Gracia knew it was the only way to get them all through this. She would put Roy to sleep and have Maes help her with the difficult areas while he slept. If she was lucky, Roy would remain asleep until long after she left to restock. Then he couldn't glare at her with mistrustful eyes and she wouldn't have to break down. Maes would understand and she knew Roy would eventually, that didn't mean she had to forgive herself.

He leaned into the contact, sighing out a breath. "I know, but it's still true. I mean, at this point having control of myself is more reassuring than anything, and that rather shook it. Unfortunately, I can't live in a huddle of blankets, so it seems that I'll have to learn to live with just control."

Gracia plastered a cheerful smile on her face and turned back to the pair on the couch. She was careful not to think about what she was doing because if she did her resolve would crumble. If that happened then Roy wouldn't get the sleeping pills, he'd be in far more pain than he had to be, everyone would get frustrated and worn out, and it would more than likely take twice as long. She didn't think she'd be able to work quite as effectively hearing Roy's muffed cries of pain. 

"You should take these straight away, Roy. They'll help dull most of the pain and make it easier on both of us during this process. I don't want you in any more pain than is necessary." Gracia explained as her hand opened to reveal the five pristine pills. "You can take them with your tea or I can get you some water if you like."

Roy blinked at her, then shook his head. "No, I know you mean well, but it'll make it more obvious for me, not less. I won't be able to ignore it with the pills." He gave her a faint smile and a differing action.

 _NO! No no no no no._ Roy was supposed to take the pills and she'd be able to work. He didn't understand how important this was, he _needed_ to take the pills. If he didn't then... then she'd have to listen to him being hurt and worse yet he might transfer some of his distrust and anger towards her. This was _not_ how it was supposed to happen. But she couldn't force him to take them. Damn it. "I un- understand. I just don't want you to have to experience all of the pain that this will likely bring. I'm not sure of the extent of your biggest injury and don't want you to be hurt when I have to examine then patch that area. I wish you would take them." She was going to try one last time. If it didn't work, well she’d have to work through it somehow.

Maes gave his wife an encouraging smile, thanking her for her thoughtfulness in this situation. He really wished Roy would take them as well. His friend had suffered enough and even if it wouldn't take all the pain away it would give him some sort of buffer against more to come. Sometimes he thought the alchemist was stubborn just to have something to do.

Roy shook his head firmly. "It's easier to ignore at these levels. Thank you though. I know you mean well... but I can't." He knew he was going to seriously unnerve Maes, but he would do better to just flat out pretend there was no pain, as he had in the bathroom. Besides, he really hated pills.

She hoped that neither caught the fleeting look of panic that had showed in her eyes. It wouldn't be good for Roy to see it especially. He wouldn't understand it unless she told him about the pills and she was _not_ going to do that. Let him ask all he wanted but she was steadfast in that respect. Best not break the trust she had with him now... until it was necessary. They were going to have the worst time of this. "Alright Roy. I can't make you after all. But this will hurt a considerable deal." She quickly supplied trying to cover her worry. She pushed the pills into her pocket before her hands began to tremble. "Would you mind helping him into the bedroom love? We'll need the extra space."

"This will certainly be interesting... Maes, I'll tell you now that I don't mean to unnerve you." He turned a little to look at him lips curled into a slight half smile. Then he moved a bit, untangling the blankets so he'd be able to get to his feet.

"Don't worry about it Roy. We've been through too much for me to stay iffy with and around you. We'll both get over it and work through it. Besides, you always do things to unnerve me... never bothered me before."

"Still, I _know_ how little you care for it when I do that, especially given how you've reacted to it in the past, and I don't want you getting overly upset about it." He shook his head, gesturing for Maes to help him get to his feet. It was almost amusing him that he was more or less reassuring _Maes_.

"Well, then and now are different. Sort of." He answered back as he pushed to his feet. He had to stretch a moment before turning to offer Roy his hands again. Seemed he was always doing that. Offering his best friend his hands... in some form or fashion he was always there for the younger man when he needed him the most. And he always would be. "Alright then... to the bedroom with you then."

He nodded, taking the offer and pulling himself to his feet, and he didn't waver anywhere nearly as he had been before. He couldn't help a relieved sigh. "I'd thought the dizziness was because I hadn't eaten, good to know I was right." He quirked his lips and leaned against Maes. "Get me to the other room then."

Maes chuckled light wrapping his arm around Roy's small waist. "As you command. But really, we're going to have to work on this arrangement. I feel like you're attached to my side. Hmm, do I actually mind that?"

"That is the question, isn't it? I see nothing wrong with the current organization at the moment, since that means I get to spend all my time with my favorite person, lovely, isn't it?" He smirked, amused as they started to walk, though he closed his eyes as they passed the kitchen, the action more or less becoming a reflex.

"Oh yeah, lovely. 'Cept I’m the one doing the carting around. I think once you get better you should have to be the lean-to once in awhile." The bedroom was slightly lighter than they'd left it earlier. The sun was shining at just the right angle in the sky to fill the interior with warmth and light. Didn't hurt that it was nice out either. Maes smiled, "Glad it's warm. Hate to have you complaining again."

Roy quirked his lips, cracking open his eyes as his smirk widened. "Since when did you like warmth? Finally seeing the error of your ways and coming over to the side of comfort?" He let himself be led in. "And you're too bulky to cart around."

"I should take that as a personal affront to my size." He chuckled. The bed was a little worse for wear since it looked a bit bare and bedraggled without its covers adorning the mattress top. Eh, it was still comfortable. Maes helped Roy onto the surface then sat beside him, slinging his arm around the man's shoulders gently. "I'll have you know it's all muscle."

Roy smirked a little then. "I'll have you know that I don't care for you giving me bald-faced lies." He looked sideways, clearly amused. He sobered up quickly enough though, taking a deep breath as he considered his garments.

Maes glared at his friend from the corner of his eyes with a small huff. Alright, so maybe it wasn't _all_ muscle but there was some there. He ran a hand over his tummy and considered that he might need to lay off a few home dinners for awhile. Gracia would probably smack him for being silly but he needed to lose a few pounds. She'd understand at some point. Another huff escaped his lips. "You should learn to just let me have my moments."

Gracia followed soon after the boys entered the bedroom. She needed to grab a few things off the table and knew that she'd have to venture into the market for some items that she didn't have with her. But for now she could treat everything with what she had then deal with packing it later. "You really should lay down and get as comfortable as possible, Roy. We'll start with your face and neck then work our way down."

Roy looked sideways to her and quickly shook his head, letting an off-center smile cross his face. "I'd really rather not do it that way." He fingered the edge of his robe. "Either way, I need to get the layers out of the way, correct? Now that my... issues... are over with, I'll be fine on that point. Even if it is still a bit too cold for me."

She pinned him with a curious look, tilting her head to the side. "Well, this is your decision but it would be easier if I could just travel downwards. Have it your way though. I'm just here to patch you up remember. Maes, please help where you can all right? Take these and start dabbing the green one around the bite marks and the blue and red ones around the burns. I've to get the gauze and tape from the table." 

Her husband nodded and quickly took up the offered items. He turned the red one over in his hand to inspect the bottle and found that it wasn't marked. Curious, he checked the other bottles and noted that they were exactly like the first. He quirked a brow and looked to Roy. "She knows what she's doing after all."

Roy eyed the bottles a little. "I'll be able to figure it out I expect. Likely all manner of antibiotics." He huffed a little and tugged off the robe, sticking with his boxers for the time being. It was brighter in here than it had been in the living room, as all the windows in there had been closed. "Alright, let’s see if the colors of the bottles match what's inside."

"Knowing my wife, she'd probably taken the original bottles and replaced them with these. She's a bit weird in that respect. Always has her own way of doing things, even medications." Maes shook his head over the oddity. Maybe he'll figure it out one day if he really tried. For now, he set aside the parade of questions to open the green bottle. It smelled strongly of mint and alcohol. "Welp, here's to finding out."

"You make me want to have that stuff on me. _Really_ , you do." Roy shook his head, then tilted it so that Maes could easily get at the bite that was the highest up on his throat. "Let’s see how bad it stings then."

"Oh shut up, and don't move." The cool gray liquid slime oozed from to bottle pooling in the base of his palm. He rubbed his fingers through it before placing them against the tender area of the bite. Lightly he moved them along the wound. "Just let me know if it starts to hurt too much. I don't know what this stuff is but it's kind of tingly."

Roy tilted his head a bit further actually, closing his eyes. "I'm not sure if it's supposed to feel like that, but I'd have to say that's kinda nice." It was just a murmur and he more or less kept himself still beyond the talking.

Maes shook his head. "I ever tell you that you're odd?" He continued down the bite mark taking extra care to be careful.

Gracia was taking her time getting the supplies together. She honestly was trying to stall for as much as she could get. This wasn't something that she was looking forward to and she knew that Roy wasn't either. The extra time would help them both better prepare for the upcoming process. It would also give her husband time to work over most the wounds with the initial topical painkillers and antibiotics. With a shuddery breath, she ran her hand over the abandoned pills in her pocket, once again cursing the failed idea.

Roy quirked his lips a little, moving a hand to make sure he didn't fall over. "All the time m'friend. For years and years."

"Doesn't seem to be sinking in. Traditions rarely do until after someone forgets them." That was a bit deeper than he'd meant it to be, though it was relatively true. No one really took up traditions until they missed them. Another odd thing... but he wouldn't delve into his friend's personality any more than he had to on a daily basis and today was _not_ a good time to start analyzing Roy Mustang. The green was used liberally until all the wounds from the neck and chest were gotten at. Maes wiped his hand onto his rumpled pants and opened one the red bottle. Its contents were a bright yellow mixture that had a slightly unpleasant smell.

Roy tilted his head to get a look at the bottle disdainfully as he got a whiff. "And that smells positively nasty." The mint stuff was nice, and made his skin tingle, but he had a look that implied getting that stinky stuff on him would be less welcome.

"Well, it doesn't _feel_ very nice either. I have definite reservations about my wife's idea of medicine right now." Maes had to agree, the stuff was nearly rancid in smell and the texture alone made his skin crawl. He about aborted putting the stuff near his friend's skin when Gracia stepped back into the room. He held his hand up slightly and gave her a questioning look. 

"Oh for heaven sakes... why must men be so afraid of something different? It's nothing to worry about. Now be a good set of children and get that stuff onto the burns. Might want to tap some off on the other injuries as well. After you finish putting the blue bottle on then we'll see about getting these dressed."

Roy leaned away from his friend a little, giving Maes a look that questioned why _he'd_ want it on him if it felt strange to an uninjured party. "What is that one? We used the other one."

She had a choice here as well. She could tell them what it truly was and risk her friend not allowing the simple painkillers to work over his wounds and help numb out part of the pain or she could simply avoid the whole truth and get the benefit of both worlds. When Roy found out what it really was, then she'd deal with it then. With an amused smile she waved her hand at the pair. "It's more medicine. I know it smells a bit nasty and it probably won't feel all that great but it helps stave off infections."

"They both do that? If they both do that, then I don't really need that one at all, now do I?" How could a person forget that he needed a sense of the materials around him, and he knew the mint one had antibiotic, he knew alcohol when he felt it after all.

"Roy, you're being difficult. Yes while the first one held disinfectants as well as a mild antibiotic it was merely first to help clear away most of the overlaying germs and whatnot so that _this_ one could go deeper and kill any starting infections." She frowned at him through slightly narrowed eyes. Why did he always have to be so stubborn? Was he going to fight her on every step of this? Oh she hoped not, otherwise she was going to resort to knocking the poor man out when he least expected.

Maes rubbed his fingers together before leaning them towards Roy's chest. "Come on, the sooner we get this stuff on, the sooner we start on the last bottle."

Roy promptly leaned away, and looked for all intents and purposes as though he was fully prepared to escape if needed. "It _stinks_ Maes. It smells worse than more than half of the things that doctors have tried to use on me before. The current antibiotics are _enough_."

"Alright, now you are acting _childish_. Gracia explained why this was necessary now quit being a mule and sit still." Maes sounded more amused than anything. Roy was never the one to be a good boy and just take his medicine. He remembered the heated arguments the man held with the military doctors at each checkup he accompanied his friend to.

"Then I'm going to be childish." He planted both hands on the bed and moved back a bit. "Wouldn't be the first time, likely won't be the last either. I absolutely despise things that stink, and if it's going to be repetitive, I can live without and I'll be _fine_."

"Oh for the love of...." Maes tossed his hands into the air in mild frustration. "Sometimes I wonder how you survived being so stubborn! It's just medicine Mustang, it's not going to _kill_ you to just let Gracia do her job and try to _help_ you here. She says this stuff is going to help kill infection and here you are acting like it's poison."

She was across the room and behind her husband in a matter of moments. She settled her hand onto his shoulder to give it a light squeeze. "Sweetheart, it's alright." She turned her attention to Roy with a slight shake of her head. "Do _not_ complain to me nor expect me to help you when you contract a rather nasty infection. And I guarantee you to. These wounds have been left open far too long without proper treatment and I'm more than sure half of them are already infected."

"If they get infected, then they do. It's something that can be remedied." He relaxed as the offending bottle was pulled back, and he leaned back forward, no longer having a reason to try to escape. "And if it happens, then it was my own fault. You tried, now, get that wretched bottle away from me, please."

Maes wasn't too pleased by Roy's attitude towards his wife's efforts. The man could at least _try_ to be a bit more accepting, especially when it would benefit him in the end. He wondered how in the world he'd made it this far without dying of some strange disease or something of that nature. The man honestly refused help. The bottle was quickly tossed to the floor in frustration and the gritty material still left on his hand soon found a home on Roy's sheets. _Tch, serves him right. Let him clean the damned mess up._

"I'll let you refuse that one but you _will not_ refuse the blue bottle. I don't care if I have to hold you down to apply it Roy, but you will have it applied." Her words came out gruffer than she'd meant, but she thought herself in the right. He was doing everything in his power to thwart her attempts at soothing his pain away. Damned male.

He waved a hand slightly, completely heedless of his injuries. "Fine, but if it smells as bad as the other, then only on the worst ones. It'll do nobody any good if the smell sends me to the bathroom sick like the other almost did, now would it?"

"You're positively impossible!" She growled out but kept her frustration in check. At least he was willing to have some of the painkiller. Though she was sure that it wouldn't matter in the end. He'd get it one way or another. Him accepting it was better than springing it on him in his more vulnerable state later to come. She pushed at her husband's shoulder to urge him to continue.

"Nice to know that you're _allowing_ us to help." Maes was still upset over his friend's behavior but he wasn't going to hold the medication off because of it.

Roy closed his eyes a moment then opened them again, looking intently at his friend. "Maes, you know I don't deal well with people in the medical profession. There's more than one reason for that." Shaking his head a little, he held still, bracing for however this bottle smelled.

The top popped off easily under the added pressure from Maes' thumb. He was working off his frustrated feelings on the inanimate in an effort not to strangle his best friend. Then again he understood Roy's wariness. Not all-good things came from medications. He arched a brow, "More than one? Roy you have several reasons for disliking the doctor and most of those stem from the quacks being male. Is there something else that's a bit more upsetting and possibly more the real reason you try to avoid checkups and such like the plague?"

"For a rather long time now." A briefly shadowed look flickered through his eyes before it was shoved back, in a manner that spoke on longtime practice with whatever horror had wanted to surface. "Now, is that one at least better that the other one? It doesn't seem to smell as strong..."

"Well that's one way to avoid a question." Clearly there was something his friend was hiding from him. He knew if he waited long enough Roy would just tell him but he couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn't already. "Actually I don't think there is much of a smell to this thing."

"Good. At least that one would be bearable then." He quirked his lips into a small smile and gestured. "Have at hmm?" If he didn't need to smell something that unmistakably screamed medicine, then he would be fine. He didn't need those memories right now after all. He'd spent too much time thinking about them anyway.

Gracia shook her head at the man's antics. Honestly she'd never met anyone with more reservations about being treated than Roy Mustang. Though she could possibly see where it stemmed from. Probably something that stretched from the war. Seems all bad things about the man did... even his enemies. "Good, make sure to rub that one in _very_ well. It will probably sting for a moment or two, possibly burn, but it will die down soon enough. Once done we'll work on getting you patched up."

"I don't mind if it stings. Stinging means it's doing what it's supposed to." He shook his head a little. "You two are lucky I wasn't more aware before Maes found me, or there would be more burns to treat and less cuts."

Maes purposely jammed a finger against a raw edge of a cut. "Oh no, _you_ were lucky I found you more or less in that state. If you'd done _one_ thing to hurt yourself Mustang..." He closed his eyes against the worst of the worst images that flooded his vision. Most of them revolving around charred bones and decaying flesh. The war did something to them both but more so to his friend.

Gracia squeezed gently on Maes’ shoulder before settling herself at Roy’s side. "Yes, it would mean it is doing what it's supposed to. I'm afraid, though, that the yellow gunk will have to be mixed with the mint for the _larger_ injuries Roy. It's a must."

"No. Just, no." He shook his head, eyes hard. "I will not be able to do this if you insist on that horrible smelling concoction." And he desperately didn't want to have to explain it.

She chanced placing her hand atop the closest of his in a comforting gesture. "I can add a few things to it to cut the smell completely if you'd like. It might be a little less effective but it will do its job."

He pulled his hand back almost immediately. "Please, I'd rather not have to worry about delays to that effect, let's just get this done."

She felt a pang of hurt prick at her heart but let it die just as quickly as it sprang to life. She needed to remember her place in this whole mess. Roy was only just accepting her so she needed to deal with each thing one step at a time. "I'm sorry... you're right. We'll just push through it." She moved away from him making it seem like she was fetching the bandages that all she needed to do was lean over the side to grab. 

He let out a breath of pure relief, then moved his arm a little so Maes didn't have to twist so much to get at it. "You could have just said I needed to move a bit you know." It was a murmur, and he shook his head in amusement.

"Could have, didn't." It was curt, he knew, but Roy was being abrasive to his wife. Even if Roy didn't know he was doing it, though Maes had a hard time convincing himself of that. Roy was many things but stupid wasn't one of them. True, he was a bit frazzled and untrusting but this was _Gracia_. His wife and the mother of Roy's Goddaughter! Honestly, what was the man thinking inside that thick skull? "Just a bit more along the chest and then I'll work on your ankles. Anything I'm missing?"

"No, no. Those will do. I'll work on the others as we go along."

Roy ducked his head a little to peer at the multi-toned liquids that were on him like badges, considering them quietly. He couldn't not think about it. He considered how he'd been earlier, looking sideways at Gracia oddly for a moment before returning his gaze back to his wounds. He didn't like seeing her as a doctor. It made it wrong in his mind to accept this help. So now Maes was upset with him. He nodded faintly, seeing the sense of that. He hated being such a bastard at times like this.

"Alright dear, that's enough. Roy I'm going to wrap your chest first then worry around your neck injuries. I may have to use an epoxy resin of some sort on the worse of the bites but that won't be much of a problem. I have the necessary items with me. We'll both work on your legs, Maes and I. The ankles will be the most time consuming of those injuries."

Roy chuckled quietly, knowing she had yet to see under his boxers. Most time consuming of those injuries? He would have thought the wrists would be for that set, and the ankles certainly weren't the worst on his legs... He stopped the morbid humor before it could run away from him. He tried not to let Maes see how terribly _comical_ it was to him when he had injuries. No need to change that now. He hated staying in that middle ground between humor and uncaring.

Maes wiped the remains of the topical on his knee. The stuff wasn't as gritty nor smooth as the last two and it gave his hand a slightly numbing feel. He didn't quite understand why the ankles would be so important. Seemed to him that his wife was a tad sneaky with this one. Painkillers more than likely and strong ones at that. He turned an amused smile towards her back. She never ceased to amaze him.

"Just sit up as straight as you can. I will be moving all around you so please don't try to knock me off the bed just because I get to close or some such. Let me _know_ I'm bothering you before it gets to that point." Gracia moved to sit on the bed again armed with her gauze and tape.

Roy snickered softly and shook his head, then moved one hand to finger his scar, eyes half closing. "Please, just get this done, there's nothing that can be done about this that won't bother me."

This wouldn't get any easier for her, nor him, at this rate. Roy was determined to keep her at arm's length and treat her as if she were insignificant other than tending his wounds. Really, she shouldn't be surprised but the treatment was so cold, it made her wonder where the real Mustang was inside that cracked shell of a man. The one she knew would never treat her like this. He was in there somewhere, hiding behind whatever was needed until he healed properly. She could wait until then.

"Right." She didn't bother to say anything else, opting to just _get it over with_. She took up the gauze, wraps, and tape and set to work. Ignoring the trembles or sharp intakes of breath she elicited from the man as she paced through her work. She wasn't going to spare him his obvious want of pain nor was she going to cease if it became too much for him. She would plod through it just as he would have to endure it.

Roy made himself be still through the tending, though after the first couples snickers, and him catching Maes' look, however much the man was hiding it, he silenced them. Instead, he dived headlong the other way, fingers tracing that one scar over and over again as he fell totally silent after a few pained noises. Despite it all, his eyes went a little dark with memory, making it just that much easier to shut everything else out.

Though his wife was seemingly speeding through the _patchwork_ , she was methodical in the procedure and its precision. Nimble fingers between the gauze and skin in a subtle interfacing dance with each wound covered. Deft in their duty, Maes was nearly mesmerized but the shift in Roy's demeanor had him blinking up at the alchemist. Something didn't sit right within his chest as he gazed into the deadened orbs gleaming from past hurt and memory. Somewhere within his best friend's troubled thoughts was an even darker place that had nothing to do with the here and now. No, this was much deeper than that. Maes reached out a slightly unsteady hand to grasp Roy's. He laced their fingers together and squeezed gently.

Roy did something of a half-blink, but he just couldn't pull himself free before it was done. To run through it all, from the meeting to the end. His hand, limp one second, gripped almost painfully tight a moment later, yet despite that he still _did not move_.

He was adequately sure that his wife was too far gone within her own little world so maybe she would miss what he was about to do. If not, he would explain it to her later. She already knew a lot about it anyway so it wasn't much of a leap between them. Without preamble, Maes shifted to his knees and pressed towards Roy. His free hand stretched upwards to caress and cup the slightly battered cheek gently.

His eyes flickered a little further open, and there was a moment where the sheer volume of emotional pain in his gaze was staggering. He'd never shared this. This was _old_ pain. Then his gaze focused on his friend and he shivered a bit, blinking away tears before they could fully form, taking care to remain still.

Maes let out a small gasp when the true depths were shown briefly to him without the usual buffers Roy would put on things. This wasn't something that could _ever_ be forgotten nor eased through time. It was too ingrained into the man. From the look of the horror he assumed could only have put that into his friend's eyes... this was a past torment that was closely linked to what had happened to him. Maybe it was something about Kimblee? No, that couldn't be right. That didn't get the same look. Maybe it was something to do with the war. A far more likely scenario.

He closed his eyes after a moment, letting out a shaky breath. "Is she almost done with this part of it?" He asked almost inaudibly, knowing he needed to pull himself out of it. But Gracia, she was too close, it made this too personal. It made it harder to push the memories away as he could do in a public hospital.

"I don't know. Are you alright? Should she stop?" Maes asked shakily closing his hand more firmly against the cheek. 

Gracia taped off another strip alone Roy's back, she wasn't paying either man any real attention short of monitoring Roy's breathing. There were a few slight hitches along the way but nothing to warrant her to stop the procedures. Bandaging was almost completed anyway just a few more strips around the neck and wrists. Maybe one more about the ribs to cover the scratches and cuts. More topical for sure but that could come later. And she still had to go at the legs!

"It's nothing new, just harder, that's all, unexpected." He didn't raise his voice, opening his eyes again, and they were a bit clearer than before, though the shadows were lurking. "I'm not sure if this is better or worse really."

"I know you want this done as soon as possible, but Roy, you don't look so good and if her proximity is that oppressive we might need to break. I don't want you overexerting yourself just for the sake of doing it. It won't help you in the end."

"It won't be different Maes." He almost laughed, keeping his voice to the whisper she wouldn't really catch. "Familiarity and professional medical training are just... apparently a very bad mix. Worse than normal."

Gracia kept up her pretense of ignoring everything other than her work when she slipped to the floor beside her husband. She didn't even bother to communicate directions to Maes, just shoved a few strips of medicated gauze between him and the bed then began to work on Roy's right ankle. She was being clinical to the point it was borderline cold. Of course, this was her goal. If she kept it clinical then nothing would get through. No more guilt niggling her heart as she watched Roy interact with her... or not as it was the case. No more having to hurt because she knew he couldn't stand her being so close when once she used him as a pillow. It was hard on him but harder on her. Maybe she was being selfish, but at this point she didn't care.

Maes was startled out of his gaze by the chilly response he'd gotten off of his wife when she thrust the gauze at him. The look on her face was one he'd seen her wear when she was completely focused on something more important than the daily housework. This was the look of someone with purpose and determination. He didn't know if he should be pleased or mildly frightened by her change.

Roy tipped his head down with the break in focus, watching the precise actions through his lashes, lips quirking into an absent half smile that didn't go at all with what was lurking behind his eyes. "Maybe once we're done with all this, I can put it back in its box and not think about it for a while. Makes me sort of glad you had no clue Maes, you'd have never dragged me out of that place otherwise." He was still quietly murmuring.

"I'm your best friend. Even if I knew what has you so scared and feeling alone I would have been there to pull you out. Damn it Roy, I would have pulled you from the gates of hell."

"Not about my memory Maes. No clue what to do with my wounds." He shook his head a little, not meeting his gaze. His issues with doctors went far deeper than he'd _ever_ let his friend in on. It only grew after the war.

Maes screwed his face into a confused grimace. What was it about Roy and his clear dislike of the medical profession... it wasn't his wife, he figured quickly. Roy was acting as if the very presence of anything remotely related to the healing arts were an affront to his very being. Or was he reading too much into this? He couldn't be because his best friend was grimacing at the bandages. Instead of taking up his end of the slack to wrap at the injured ankle he resumed caressing the battered cheek. "You'll tell me eventually, right? Why you've such a problem with seeking help from doctors in general?"

He closed his eyes, tipping his head lower. "I don't like remembering." He shook his head a fraction. "It shouldn't have been done." Finally, what has underscored that pain was clear, it was the way he said the words. Guilt. He waited rather patiently for her to finish, keeping himself still.

His sigh was born both of frustration and worry. He heard the inclination in the man's voice, the pain and guilt of some past folly, now Roy was suffering to this day unduly. Well, Maes didn't know if it was or not since he'd never been privy to _this_ before. So much for being the one person your best friend could tell anything to. He did, however, figure that it had something to do with that day he'd found Roy about to commit the biggest mistake of his life. Human transmutation was forbidden for a reason and Maes hadn’t been about to let the alchemist run that course and find out exactly _why_. Maes wasn't an alchemist himself but he was smart enough to know the ‘why’s and ‘why not’s of most of alchemic law. "Many things shouldn't have happened but did. We can't change them once they have been done only go on with our lives and try to redeem ourselves. Not everyone is lucky enough to find redemption."

"I know. That makes having wounds professionally tended no easier though." He tilted his head into Maes' palm, eyes fluttering back open to watch Gracia work, though he only peered through his lashes. She was nearly done with these then.

Well, she couldn't very well go about ignoring those two even though they were doing a good job of ignoring her. Bless Roy, he was having the hardest time though. She knew her handy work would be appreciated later, but for now it was an inconvenience and somewhat of a bother to the alchemist. Gracia didn't know why, she didn’t think she would care to know, but it was bothersome to her as well. Though it was a bit pessimistic of her, she couldn't help feeling cheated and somewhat used. Nothing so dramatic as first thought, but she was trying her best to help and she was left feeling jaded. Nowhere near the good she thought would come from this. Oh well, she'd get over it eventually, but that didn't mean she had to like it. It wasn't a problem to gently push her husband out of her way so she could attend the still untended leg and she set about wrapping the medicated bandages around the wounds with ease. She gave his chest a rather nasty look but other than that she continued to ignore the pair.

Roy wasn't unaware of her. In fact, he was slowly growing hyper aware of her actions, especially when she moved Maes. His eyes followed her, though he didn't move his body, and he felt oddly relieved that she was getting upset with him. His mind had always been skewed on the medical, and now, well, her being pissed at him might actually even it back out.

One last flourish of gauze, a few strips of tape, and she was finished. She sat back a small ways, almost leaning into her husband, to view her handiwork. It wasn't anything fancy, nor was it sloppy. Precision was key and so was speed in this case so for what she ended up with was far better than she could have hoped for. Gracia was thankful that Roy was so patient with her... or moreover ignored her the entire time. It was upsetting, of course, but she now could see that it would have gone downhill if he'd reacted. With a soft sigh, she crawled away from both the men to stand up. "We're in need of more gauze and packing salts. I'll run to the market and pick them up while you help Roy undress fully and prepare for what is to come next." Short, to the point, and said quickly enough that she could move from the room before either could form a response. 

"I hope she'll forgive me for that at some point." Roy shook his head a little after the murmur and ducked his head, drawing his arms around himself as he shivered, closing his eyes. 

Maes shifted to his feet. Soon his arms circled Roy's shoulders in an awkward side hug as he lay his forehead atop the raven mess. He knew how hard it had been for Roy to go through that without much comment. He should have known better than to be upset but he couldn't help it. Roy was never so cold before, and even though Maes knew the reasoning behind it, he still felt somewhat justified. "Gracia's already forgiven you, you know that. She just wants you to get better. We both do."

"You can't tell me that I didn't upset her. I could tell." He shook his head a little, drawing an unstable breath. "It made it easier though, really. I just hope she doesn't let it get to her. It's not really personal. I'm just... Not in a state to hang onto myself like usual, that's all."

"Of course you upset her Roy! What did you expect would happen?" Sometimes he couldn't stop himself from being slightly miffed, but he let that emotion roll off him like water on a duck's back. It was better that way when dealing with one Roy Mustang. The man could be nothing constant contradictions at the best of times and Maes had known him most of their lives. So he could deal with this as well as his wife's emotional state in tandem. "But the initial part is over. You'll both get over it eventually. Now..." He pulled back to look at the trembling man over the rim of his glasses. "You care to let me in on why it was so upsetting?"

"It... reminds me. The smells especially. I can barely stand to be in hospitals half the time because of it. I'd be dead now if Marcoh hadn't stopped me. So I just... I don't like remembering." He shook his head, threading his fingers together.

"The Rockbells incident I take it." Maes was speaking more to himself than his friend. He remembered Edward's and Alphonse’s cute little friend Winry. Winry Rockbell... daughter of the two doctor's slain during that war. It all connected back to Roy. The little pieces began to click into place for the intel man. With a heavy sigh, he pulled Roy back against him.

He turned into the hug immediately and closed his eyes, letting out a miserable little laugh. "Yeah. They had a picture there too... And I saw it." He ducked his head and made a pained sound. "Nothing ever ends. Not even this." He paused, shaking his head a little, unable to wait until this was done to share the information. "He's going to come back."

His long fingers soothed through the alchemist's hair in some semblance of a comforting gesture. He wasn't sure how he could help the situation other than offer himself as a buffer for his friend to vent against. Cry, scream, rant, anything just so long as he was there for Roy and the man knew it. It didn't matter otherwise. Maes had opened his mouth to offer a soft retort to the earlier comment when Roy's last caught him off guard. He tightened his grip around his friend and nearly growled. "The bastard won't get near you."

"I hope not... but he said he would." It was a murmur, and he shook his head, burrowing close against his friend. He'd feel safe while he could, even if that was fettered through simple knowing. "Why bother to lie?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next chapter we'll be following where Kimblee got off to once he left.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything hadn't gone the way he'd hoped, but by far things had turned out better than he expected. Who knew how much he'd missed out during his incarceration? Apparently, the world didn't deign to stop revolving while he'd been locked away and forgotten. No matter, he was out now and would remind everyone that he still existed. With a pleased smirk, Kimblee brushed his braid behind his shoulder as he thought of one _person_ that would never forget again. He could still taste the sweet fear and forced lust on his lips along with the copper and sweat. The Flame Alchemist was a challenge to banter with on good days, even back in the war the man had a sharp wit and keen focus... but something in the way he was so... well. Kimblee didn't exactly know what it was his fellow alchemist was, but he liked it. He also didn't understand his urge to let the man suffer alive. Then again, he wanted to _visit_ the excellent fuck later. He was sure that would go over perfectly. 

Greed hadn't spared any time for delay after being set free a few months prior, gathering up a collection of people that would aid him for a time he was sure would last, and he settled everyone in Dublith. Now that everyone was well situated, he was prowling the streets of his city, relearning the territory. He'd been so busy getting everything planned out recently that he hadn't had much of a chance to get out and simply enjoy the sunlight. Most certainly a waste. 

The alchemist hated waiting for anything now that he had a choice in the matter. So waiting for something interesting to come along was getting to be bothersome. If things kept up at this rate he would have to find his own fun and that was _not_ what he wanted today. He wanted something to come his way, but he didn't seem to think that was possible. Oh well, all he was doing was looking for a chance to burn off the dredges of chaos that still raged beneath his skin. He scanned the crowd for anyone or anything worth taking out his frustration on. Maybe one of these idiots would be foolish enough to bother him today.

Greed strode around a corner, seeing the rather poorly dressed figure off to the side of the crowd. He looked vaguely familiar, and it took him a few moments to realize he'd been one of those that had escaped when he'd collected his chimeras and fled to here. It seemed he hadn't gotten out as free and clear as he'd thought if he was looking so downtrodden after a few months on his own. He padded in that direction, studying the still too thin figure.

Empty, distant eyes traveled over the passer-by without any real spark of interest. It didn’t seem like he was going to get his wish of relief from any of these morons. They were too common, too docile, too _weak_. It was enough to turn his stomach. All of them were nothing more than cattle. It was a travesty to what he'd fought for during the war. They knew nothing of sacrifice and oh, but how he wanted to teach them all. It wasn't worth the cost in the end if he did. Instead, he leaned against the wall fully and pocketed his hands.

Padding quietly closer, the sin was just beyond arms reach when he decided to bring the man's attention to him. It wasn’t in his nature to just let himself be ignored. Studying the alchemist though his sunglasses, violet eyes took in the rather ragged attire, the frayed edges and almost holes, he shook his head. "No funds to get new clothes?" 

Agitation prickled along Kimblee's nerves at the words. As if he cared what he wore or who saw him in it. He wasn't some vain pragmatic fool that thought of how he looked to others or himself. What the hell right did anyone have to tell him how he should dress? True, the clothes were a bit old but they were his from before the war ended. He was surprised they survived in his old hideaway. Surprised, because all the others had been tossed or cleared out. These were of his concern only, not some bastard's from off the street. But he chose to keep his cool. Maybe this was the excitement he'd been waiting for. The man wasn't more than a length away, just a twist and press... BOOM he'd go and Kimblee would have his fun for the day. "I don't believe it's any of your concern." He answered back coldly, not bothering to look at the man. "Pike off."

"Just a question. Really, I would have thought you'd have found something better than that by now." He waited, curious to see if he'd even be remembered. The man _had_ refused to come with him once they'd gotten out after all. Not that he hadn’t tried to convince, but he’d had a couple wounded people on his hands, and he hadn’t really had the time to spare for this particular handful just then.

He was being spoken at like he was some wayward child. It was grating on his nerves and even more so on his patience. He finally turned a critical eye towards the owner of the voice and nearly groaned in realization. For the love of all that was fucking holy or what the fuck ever! How in the hell did he always run into familiar faces that he _did not want to see ever again_?! "Well isn't this a happy reunion. Go away, I do believe I told you to pike off back then as well. I don't want, nor appreciate, your comments on my attire since I see you still have sore taste in your own. I'll stick to what I've got, thank you very much, until something better comes along." Again he was cold and dismissive. Without a further glance, he turned his attention back to the milling people in the market area.

"Have a place to stay?" Just because he’d been in too much of a hurry last time they’d crossed paths didn’t mean he was completely without interest now. The alchemist was a renegade, could be useful if made loyal, and certainly more than interesting enough to keep around on the merits of appearance. They were shallow reasons, and the man had a horrible attitude, but that could change. "If not, you can come stay with me."

The alchemist's hands itched to reach over and ruin the man's day. It wouldn't take much, just a bit of contact with his skin then that annoying smirk and condescending voice would be forever muted. He resisted the trembles of rising rage in favor of scoffing. "You don't seem to listen to well. I didn't go with your little freak show the last time, nor am I inclined to join it now. Do I _look_ like I'm a follower?"

"You mean you'd so easily turn down a warm bed, free food, and clean clothes? Very well. What's your name? All I got out of you before was what you liked to do, not who you were." Greed watched him casually, unwilling to go anywhere just yet. Not everyone understood first chances, some people needed several of them.

"From you I'd gladly turn down anything. Quite presumptuous to think an offer from _you_ would be well received." He turned a lazy eye back towards the man and shook his head. "Kimblee. Now go away."

"Don't even want to know my name in return? How cruel of you." He tisked, inclining his head a little to peer over his glasses, a small smirk on his lips. "There's no need to be like that. I've been nothing but generous to you."

Kimblee pushed away from the wall so he could turn and face the man fully, giving him the benefit of his unimpressed glare. "I'm not sure we are on the same page then, I believe I should rectify that quickly. You asked my name because obviously you wanted to know, I didn't return the gesture because I do _not_ want to know you. The last time we saw each other we were both escaping something and I had _hoped_ it would have been our last encounter. I do not take kindly to those that continually pry into my life no matter their cause. You don't like the way I look, that's tough for you, I seem to be doing just _dandy_ with my appearance. Do I have to make an example out of you before you'll leave me alone?" 

Greed laughed quietly, noting that a few differences in phrasing might have made the man sound almost eloquent. Maybe there was more to him after all. "And I want you to know my name, I was giving you a chance to ask properly. It's Greed. As to your appearance, I didn't say I found anything wrong with it, I just expected to see you in something less beaten up by now. And then the example, no, I don’t believe I'll let you do that at the moment."

The alchemist narrowed his eyes slightly at that smug expression. He didn't take kindly to be laughed at, nor being talked down to. True, he had a flair for the dramatic overreaction but it was just who he was. Honestly, what was he without his extremes? He frowned deeply, bringing his hands to cross over his chest. "What makes you think anything about me is proper? I believe I failed etiquette quite nicely back in grade school. And what kind of name is Greed?"

"It's what I am." He raised an eyebrow, hands resting against his thighs in a casual gesture. There weren’t many ways more obvious to declare he didn’t feel threatened without actually saying so. "Besides, I thought you weren't interested."

"Thinking isn't your strong suit, so kindly stop before you hurt yourself." That sounded like a five-year-old’s retort, he knew, but he was too busy berating himself for showing any sign of interest in the stranger. The last time he saw that face it had struck him as odd. The eyes were shadowed then, so were all of those of the prisoners from the 5th laboratory, but here they were, clear and unshielded by those damned sunglasses. Kimblee didn't really take note of the odd coloring of the eyes since he'd seen far more interesting colors before, but the pupils themselves drew his attention. He leaned his shoulder against the wall as he regarded those eyes, wishing he could knock that smirk right off the man's mouth. "Now I think I get why you were in the laboratory." He said it more as a statement than a real question.

"I doubt you do, they certainly weren't expecting to see me." He smirked more widely and pushed off the wall, straightening up with a small tug to right his vest. He peered over his sunglasses for another moment before pushing them up, his expression all teeth. "But, let me know if you change your mind Kimblee." 

He barely registered that he was about to spring forward and wrap his hands around the man's neck before he actually did it. No matter how much he _wanted_ to just kill the arsehole and be done with the matter, there was something holding him back... his damned curiosity. Goddamn it. He didn't like being ignored either. He moved to stand upright again and glared at the man's chest. “So why were you there?"

"I wasn’t a very obedient little Greed." He shrugged, as though that answered all possible questions, then he turned to walk off. "Hungry?"

"No." It was the truth, he may not have eaten very much the past few days but he couldn't bring himself to eat anything. He wasn't hungry, but that wasn't the only thing that could be bothering him on that front. "Rather a drink actually." Even though he had protested about it earlier, he was following the man, returning his hands to his pockets. What was the harm in getting a drink anyway? And damn it, he wanted to know what that meant!

Greed didn't bother to contain his amusement, and meandered back in the direction where his bar was set up. He kept a light glance on him from the corner of his eye. "That shouldn't be a problem."

Kimblee made it a point to memorize the route they were taking. He wanted a clear exit if he needed one, and getting lost in the turns and crosshatches they were taking wouldn't do him any good. Especially not if things were to turn ugly. Vaguely, he wanted that even more than the dry tightening of his throat wanted something cool and stinging to slide down it. He made it a point to ignore the bastard, not amused that he was on the receiving end of some private joke.

Greed pushed into the bar, looking around a bit. Mostly empty at this hour. It was too early in the day to have customers anyway. He glanced over his shoulder as Kimblee halfway paused before entering. "Coming?"

"Why the hell would I follow you this far if I wasn't?" He growled, pushing past Greed to settle against the bar top. He kept himself in profile so he could watch his _host_ with one eye while the other took in the surroundings. It had been a hard trick to learn, but there were many things one could accomplish when a war was on. 

Greed slipped behind the bar, turning to collect a couple glasses easily. He was acting as though he owned the place, which made sense, as Kimblee didn’t know that he did. "Some ingrained need to be contrary perhaps? Some people are just like that you know."

"You're starting to grate on my nerves again Greed." Well, this had been a waste of his time. He shouldn't have followed even if he wanted to know more. As they said, curiosity killed the cat, though he thought it should have been foolish since that's how he felt. He wanted to turn around, walk out the door, and turn this little hole in the wall into a pile of rubble. What he actually did was turn to fully face the man with a dull glare.

Greed raised an eyebrow and set a filled glass in front of Kimblee, a small smirk hovering on his lips. "That will do, won't it?" He leaned on the bar, sipping his own.

He picked up the glass cautiously, though his outward demeanor didn't readily show that fact, as he checked the liquid for something. Apparently it passed whatever he had in mind because the next moment he brought it to his lips and took a pull. Ahhh, it stung just right as it inched down his throat, chasing away the gnawing thirst from earlier. "If it hadn't then neither of us would still be here."

"You might not be, but I certainly would. Were you considering blowing up my lovely little bar while you were here, was that it?" He turned, facing Kimblee more fully as he nursed his glass, enjoying it.

"Keep annoying me and we'll soon find out." He replied with no real intent behind the words. He tossed back the rest of his drink then made to get up from the stool. "As _fun_ as this has all been Greed, you're quite boring and I've no intention of continuing along that line."

"And you think someone out there will bring you more entertainment than I can?" He finished his drink, then moved around the bar with quick steps to smirk down at him.

"At this rate I think a trained monkey could do a better job." A smirk of his own flew to his lips at his own bad humor. He sat his glass back onto the counter and tried to move past Greed, intent on leaving behind this waste of time along with a nice going away explosion for the trouble. 

"Did it hurt much?" Greed leaned on the bar top, picking up his half empty glass. He had the feeling the man had tampered with it since he'd seen him finger it after he'd put it down.

He scrunched his eyes up in confusion. At what point did this conversation turn from him leaving to something pulled out of thin air? Or was the man just off his rocker like Kimblee had previously thought? "Did what hurt much? What the hell are you on about?" Well, he supposed he wasn't leaving quite yet after all. 

He didn't feel like drinking broken glass, so he set it down again, going for intelligence over thirst this time around. "The brands of those lovely weapons of yours. Did it hurt much?" 

Instinctively Kimblee flipped his palms upwards to trace over the marks with a critical eye. These two little arrays were what made up his being in his mind, the ones that controlled his fate. He let those marks lead him in action and train him in sloth. Did it hurt when they became a part of him fully? The real answer was complicated. He didn't think it was something he would like to share so he decided being vague was the easy way out. "Not as much as when they came off. What do you care again?"

"Because you caught my attention before. I don't lose interest that easily." He tilted his head, then moved lazily over to stand near the man. "If nothing else, my time there has taught me patience."

"Mine taught me nothing useful. Hmm, well, maybe the urge to deal with my problems with more force than reason." He wasn't really paying attention to Greed any longer so he didn't react when he was almost to him. His mind was still working through the memories of the laboratory and those damned scientists that thought they could break him. They tried to take away his will and only ended up incurring his wrath. Kimblee smiled fondly. They didn't last very long after all.

Greed leaned in, resting his fingers on Kimblee's shoulder as he considered that smile. "Any knowledge is useful."

The voice was a lot closer than he remembered Greed being earlier and with a start realized it was because the man was right in front of him. He would have kicked himself over letting his guard down, even for a moment, but was to busy bristling at the proximity of the other body. He raised his hand to knock away the touch, backing away quickly. "It's only useful if it serves a purpose." His eyes were screaming of violence and blood when he stared up into those sunglasses. "Don't. Touch. Me."

Greed followed him with his gaze, not seeming at all unnerved by the display. If anything, the little smirk that couldn't seem to leave his lips grew toothy. "You're spoiling for a fight, aren't you?" He crossed his arms, amused.

"It's what I was looking for earlier to alleviate my boredom. But right now it's what you'll get if you even think about touching me again. I don't care who or what you are, _nobody_ touches me unless I _touch_ right back." He gestured with his palm. "And I don't leave much behind afterwards."

Greed shook his head, watching him closely. "No need to be so grouchy. What did you think I'd do, hmm?" He didn't drop his hand, gesturing in the air in front of him almost teasingly. 

His hands were twitching with need again. He nearly grabbed one of the standing chairs just to have something to throw at the arrogant bastard. Why he would resort to that instead of marching straight up to Greed and setting his world on fire... Why didn't he just do that? It was disturbing to admit he didn't know the answer. "Doesn't matter what you _want_ to do. I _don’t_ want to be touched. End of conversation. Or are you looking to lose a few spare body parts if this persists?"

"I won't lose anything." He waved his hand in the air in front of him a moment later with a smirk, then gestured in a plainly dismissive manner. "Even if you attacked me, you wouldn't manage to do anything to me. I'm not that weak."

"Might have to test that one day then." Kimblee practically growled at the man before turning towards the door. He was going over the pathway out of this place when another realization came to him. So that's what the name was for was it? The bastard wanted something from him that he could provide... interesting, but not enough to keep him here.

Greed watched him march for the door and cocked his head, a small smile breaking its way free of his smirk. "Alchemists are such strange creatures. Always under-thinking things before acting."

Kimblee sent a glare over his shoulder. "As opposed to you thinking in general? You're one fucked up creature yourself Greed. I think we can both agree that the best solution to our little _problem_ is for you to mind your own fucking business and stay out of my life. Otherwise we'll be _working_ through our differences with more than words."

"I can't really say I'd mind. It's been a while since I had a decent fight." Greed leaned on the bar, hands resting on the smoothed surface. "Isn't there anything you want Kimblee?"

"Revenge." It came out before he could stop himself. He silently cursed himself, trying to think of a way to salvage that long kept secret to himself. "What does anyone want Greed? By your name I can tell you want something more than what you have. You want it all. Well, you're screwed. No one can have it all; it's not possible. Sure, for a while you'll be content and wander around aimlessly before you grow weary, bored, and go looking for something else to occupy your time. Your life is a complete circle. A complete utter waste!"

"Perhaps, but it's what I am. Just like you are what you are. What do you want revenge on?" He pushed off the bar top and strode across the room, long lazy steps. The smirk had faded, and he seemed genuinely interested in knowing.

"What the hell do you think?!" His voice rose slightly with his temper. "You were there, your little chimeras were there. I'm sure they wouldn't pass up the opportunity for a little revenge themselves if they could. But I'm not just interested in the scientists, nor just the ones that had it ordered... my revenge is a bit deeper than that. And _what the hell do you care_?!" Stress was having him repeat himself, he knew, but he didn't mind. Yelling made him feel better. It brought his temperature up just enough that he could believe his blood was bubbling with the heat. It made things so much easier to focus on.

"So you want to deal in those who tried to take you apart, and trapped you, and controlled you? It's a perfectly understandable goal, especially since you seem to be rather against any pretense of an order." He got within Kimblee's range. "But do you have any plans? Any ways to not be obvious?"

"It's none of your fucking concern Greed. I've gathered what intel I could and will deal with what I need later. One way or another I will get what I want." He smiled grimly. "I always do."

"Then you wanted to be there? You were rather well secured down in there." He circled around him with a slow smirk.

He bared his teeth at Greed in something that couldn't be mistaken as a smile nor taken as a threat. "It was better than being dead, though death would have been a hell of a lot kinder. I'm human, so the will to live is far better than letting yourself be killed."

"I wouldn't know, I didn't have those options. I was even more forgotten about in my cage than you were in yours. You're free now, you already have plans of what to do?" Greed came to pause.

"Of course I do. I may be perceived as rash and unstable, but there's a fucking brain inside this demented head." He threw himself into a nearby chair, growling near ferally. "The idiots think you can just waltz into the military with nothing but talent and become a state alchemist! My plans may not be perfect, but they'll work out eventually."

"I never claimed you were an idiot. You seem rather brilliant to me, and I've seen all manner of things over the years." He shook his head slightly, once again following him with his gaze.

"First you insult me, then you compliment me. I think you're more than screwed in the head Greed. You're fucking nuts. I've known a great many in that group, but you take the cake. What the hell is your deal anyway? You're like an eccentric collector with skewed tastes in what he likes."

Greed considered that description for a moment, cocking his head to the side as he went over the components that would make up such a description. "Yes, I would have to say that's about right. I've always hated letting good things go to waste."

"Good things go to waste?" He rolled that thought around in his head a moment. It did make sense in an off center kind of way. The scruffy litter of chimeras were anything but useless, even more useful than humans he knew. But why keep them around for so long if they weren't being _of_ use? Kimblee hadn't heard of anything remotely resembling a report on rouge chimeras terrorizing anyone, nor did he hear about strange occurrences around town. Nothing but the norm for this place. "Your little chimeras are good things you don't want to waste then? Doesn't seem they are very useful to me."

"If I ever need them. Then they will be there at my call, what other reason could be better? Instead of the Military keeping you on their call, they locked you away in a waste of your abilities. Does that mean you weren't useful then?"

"Means they wanted to keep me at bay. Bastards use and abuse those they have under their power. Just like your chimeras. We were all pawns during the war and once it was over they locked us away at the lab where they thought they could turn us into something far better than what we were... bastards." He ignored the initial question. He didn’t care to answer it because he was afraid that was the case.

"But they didn't lock you away to forget about you." Greed shook his head a little, then he smirked a bit. "If you want to get back, I can help. You can't think I don't have plans that may benefit, it's not in my nature. You'd just need to stay."

"I don't presume to know what anyone is thinking anymore. Landed me in hot water enough for me to learn my lesson." He grumbled under his breath. It still bothered him, Greed wanting him to stay with his freak show attractions. He didn't have a problem with them other than the fact they were _there_. He didn't need another distraction getting in his way. Not that the pony was much of a drawback in his scheme. It was actually a perk in the end, but a damned distraction none the less. "And what do you get out of all this?"

"I like to think of it as a bit of everything." Greed leaned on the table beside Kimblee's chair and peered down at him. "Does that sound like a decent enough deal?"

Kimblee mulled the offer over in his mind. The upside to the deal would be he'd have a place to hide out, food, and a place to rest... the down side would be relying on the creature and his chimeras for everything. He didn't like having to depend on anyone for anything anymore. When he was locked away in the 5th laboratory he lost all faith in hierarchy in general, and if he accepted Greed's offer he would be setting himself into another one. Greed was the top dog, as it were, and he would be among the lowest ranks once again. Kimblee did _not_ like that idea one bit, but then again, who said he had to follow what the thing said anyway? Suspicion kept him from readily saying yes, but weariness was winning him over. "It's not much of a deal you know."

"It's better than any other deals you've gotten recently, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head a little after speaking.

"Only one thus far that hasn't ended in red splatter and smoldering concrete." The alchemist mumbled to himself. He turned narrowed eyes towards Greed and gave a curt nod. "Fine. Don't expect me to be one of your lackeys. I _don't_ do orders anymore."

Greed smirked and tilted his head, regarding him for a moment. "If that's how you're going to be, then fine." He extended his hand, a smirk hovering on his lips.

A thin eyebrow rose a fraction. "Did you expect something different from me? You should know better."

"No, I expected nothing different from that at all. In fact, I think I would have been sorely disappointed if you so easily changed your stripes." He shook his head, lifting his hand to push up his glasses when no move to take his hand was forthcoming.

The brow came down when he turned to stare at the table. It was weird to be under someone's rule again after so long. Years of subjugation after his time of willing devotion to the military, now this. It was a slight turn he never thought would come. Though it couldn't be all bad, and if it was he could blow them all to hell before skipping town. 

"You want a room right? C'mon." He studied the line of Kimblee's back and smiled. He needed patience here, otherwise he might fumble the little boom baby. Nothing subtle either though, since he was sure that would get just as bad of a reaction.

"You don't waste time do you?" He wasn't really asking, but couldn't keep the question sequestered. He didn't argue though. He was tired, wanted a shower, and his hands ached with the need to blow something up. Maybe if one of the chimeras pushed it he would get a chance to solve the last problem before he grabbed a shower.

"Of course not. Keep those pretty weapons away from the others though unless you want me to keep you closer than I intended." He tilted his head a little, looking Kimblee over. "I wouldn't mind that, but I think you might."

A scowl quickly replaced the neutral expression he tried to keep after he accepted Greed's offer. It seemed the asshole wanted to continual grate on his nerves for the duration of their professional relationship. He gave the man a cold glare, "I believe I already mentioned the _no_ touching policy, Greed." He flashed a palm, "I believe that's a given enough answer."

"You're under the impression that I'm afraid of your pretty weapons, aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder as he turned to walk off. "I just like to be clear."

"Awww, sentimental about the mutts? Sappy shit like that makes my stomach churn." He sneered, glare firmly fixed in place. He flexed the fingers on both hands before shoving them into his pants pockets. If he couldn't use them, then he might as well quell the temptation by keeping them hidden. No fun at all. Though he smirked with a thought, "Exactly what are you afraid of then?"

"It's none of your business what I'm afraid of Kimblee, now is it?" He smirked, turning forward again as he started to walk. "Though I doubt you'd be able to puzzle it out anyway."

"Ah, now who is being rude? Just idle conversation Greed, don't take it so _personally_." Kimblee secretly was more than pleased with the other's reaction, though he kept an amused scowl plastered across his features. So Greed had more to hide than the obvious after all. Why would he find it such a big deal to share his fears? Maybe there was something about them that _could_ be used against him... though it couldn’t be anything normal, because Greed wasn't normal.

The sin, for his part, merely rolled his shoulders with an amused air. "I wasn't, really, what did you expect me to react with?" He shook his head, opening a door that led to the area behind the bar.

"I, personally, don't give a rats ass how you react. Was a simple question, you refused to answer. No fucking big deal. We all have things we want to hide from the world." 

Greed laughed quietly. "Of course. I guess I need to work on my social skills. I'm still not quite used to being out in the world after so long away."

Kimblee huffed with a roll of his eyes. "Yours sorely lacks something if you ask me... but since we're being _kind_ to one another... on second thought, fuck kindness. I don't really care what you are or aren't afraid of. I'll figure it out eventually." He grinned more for himself than for anyone else’s benefit. "It will give me something to do in this hell hole."

"Just what were you going to ask me?" He moved down a hall and stopped near a door. Most of the rooms were rather bare, but it made sense as they hadn't been there all that long. He glanced to Kimblee then stepped into the room, taking off his glasses to clean them. 

"What makes you think I want to ask you anything?" The room wasn't any better than the one he'd been staying in the last few days. Not even cleaner though it was larger. Nothing was relatively out of place either. Just some form of neat and clean box with a bed and window. Go figure, but Kimblee wasn't going to complain, yet. It was a place to stay. He padded over to the bed and sat on the floor to lean against the frame and mattress.

"Usually if a tone of question is started, it tends to be rather obvious, no matter how it's expressed." He paused, looking around. "You'll need to tell me what you want in here, all the rooms started like this."

Kimblee chuckled humorously, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What would I need that isn't already provided?" He gestured at the bed with a wave of a hand. "All I need is what's already here. Unless, of course, you want to provide me with _suitable_ targets."

Greed didn't quite know how to approach that one. Everyone wanted _something_ beyond a few toys, didn't they? The lack of want wasn't quite something he'd had to deal with before. "I'm sure you'll have some opportunity."

"Let's just hope none of your little freaks present too much temptation for me then. Otherwise, I believe they'd make perfect practice tools." His smile was a bit dark. "But you wouldn't like that, so you've said."

Greed gave him a dark look. "If try do, I'll be sure to keep you very close until you learn when you get to keep your hands to yourself, and when you can play." He shook his head. "I think I'm going to get you something else to wear." 

Kimblee removed his hands from his pockets to rub the arrays together. He didn't like the implication of what Greed said, _at all_. No one was allowed to tell him what he could and couldn't _play_ with. Not anymore... but he had a deep and disturbing sense that if he tried anything the end result wouldn't be something he liked. "Threats, however implied, won't get you anywhere with me Greed. I ignore them promptly enough. And what I have on’s just fine, so whatever."

"I wasn't threatening. I don't see the point in saying something that won't be carried through." He laughed lowly, and shrugged, moving his left hand to put his sunglasses back on as he pushed away from the wall, the action showing the symbol on his hand more obviously. "As to the clothes. Well, maybe I just want you to wear something else."

"Living up to your name then. Always wanting something." His voice dropped slightly with his next statement. "You can't always have what you want, you know."

"With enough time, you can get anything. Certainly you realize that." He smirked and shook his head, watching him for a moment. "And I have all the time in the world."

"Not everything." Kimblee mumbled to himself. To Greed he offered his own smirk. "Then go wait for whatever it is somewhere else. I think I prefer to sleep _alone_. Don't care much for any argument you've got about it either." The alchemist dismissed the man after that, instead concentrating on rising from the floor and settling on the edge of the bed.

"If you don't make me keep a closer eye on you, then you'll have time to yourself as you want it. If you do..." He shrugged, then moved to step out. "I'll be back later with those clothes Kimblee." 

"Fine." He didn't say much after that, opting to ignore Greed altogether. The man was getting under his skin already. Too damned cocky, that was for sure. How he wanted to wipe that smirk off the bastard’s face. Kimblee laid back against the mattress, folding his arms underneath his head and wondered idly how much it would take to actually get close enough to blow the man's head off. He knew that the direct approach was definitely out. Something about the way the man moved told him that it would take more than just agility to accomplish the task. His mind drifted to scenarios of using bits of the building or even one of those fucking chimeras as an obstacle to slow the bastard down... oh well. It was just a thought anyway. He would figure it out eventually, but for now he allowed his eyelids to drift closed. He might not find sleep but the darkness was welcome.

It was a while before Greed came back, not bothering to knock as he pushed the door open, a bit glad he had gotten around to making sure nothing in the place creaked too badly. He moved to the bedside to put down the outfit he'd located. The near black red color just suited the man in his mind.

Kimblee's eyes cracked open slightly. Only Greed, but he knew that without looking. The man did say he was coming back after all, and he highly doubted the other _things_ roaming around the place would be stupid enough to enter the bedroom without announcing themselves. He doubted Greed would _ever_ announce himself before entering here. Kimblee bent his head up slightly and took in the choice of clothing before laying back down closing his eyes. "Thought I said I preferred sleeping alone. Means lingering isn't _prefered_."

"But you aren't asleep, now are you?" He looked over to the bed, letting his gaze slide over him, considering his slightly less tensed stance for a moment.

His eyes went through the motions of exasperation. "That was a very stupid question. Hadn't pegged you for an imbecile Greed, doesn't seem to suit you."

"It was more a case of me pointing out the obvious, as I'm sure you're well aware. You just like to insult people, don't you Kimblee?" He tisked softly, shaking his head.

"Comes naturally when given the right ammunition. Idiots should be told of their incompetence quickly before something can go wrong in their presence." The alchemist stretched slightly before propping himself up on his elbows. The long braid fell over his shoulder when he cracked his neck to the side to get rid of a small kink. "I insult people, you annoy people. Not much of a difference between us."

"I think you might not be entirely wrong on that one. You must be the most bloodthirsty human I've had a chance to come across. It's refreshing." He smirked and shrugged a little, straightening up.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Call it a by product of my childhood." His smirk returned. "Let's just say I didn't play well with others."

"It certainly doesn't seem like it. You would have been intriguing to watch turn into this. Predators are always admirable." He ran his hand through the air over Kimblee, about a foot away from him, in a vaguely petting motion. "I'll let you get back to sleep."

Kimblee drew back instinctively with a snarl on his lips though he kept himself from fully retreating onto the bed. Damned man needed to keep his hands to himself or run the gambit of loosing them. To hell with his rules. 

Greed seemed almost amused by the reaction and shook his head. "Yes, you are a feral thing, aren't you?" He didn't quit though, even though he was far from touching him at all, instead seeming to have no problem pretending he was actually close enough to be petting for a moment more before he dropped his hand.

"Don't do that either. I'm not your fucking pet." His voice was harsh if a bit stunted with rage. He wanted to let the arrays do the talking at this point, but knew it wasn't a good idea. He was tired and his energy reserves were starting to run low as it was. He needed sleep and probably tomorrow he would have to force himself to eat something. He just wasn't hungry. 

"No, pets are tame." Greed cocked his head, studying him. "You aren't that at all. Go back to sleep, you need it." Smirking a little, he turned around and started to walk away from him.

"Bastard." The word was spat at the sin's back, but Kimblee didn't do anything further. With one last glare, he lowered back against the mattress and closed his eyes. One day he would use that prick to take this entire place down. Tomorrow sounded just as good as next week. As he slipped into something resembling sleep he smiled at the images of raining blood and white fur collars.

* * *

Eventful was the only real definition of his day. The night's sleep hadn't been exactly enough for Kimblee to regain his complete energy stores, but the shower, shave, and new clothes seemed to do the trick. In no time flat he went from grumbling and ready to blow the place sky high to being a bit more calm and ready to rouse trouble. To hell with Greed once again. He was going to have his fun one way or the other, and if the thing wanted to stop him, well, he was ready for a fight. He braided his still damp hair tightly, wrapping the freshly washed (and still quite wet) band around his hair to keep it in place. Tossing the long braid over his shoulder, he deposited his old things back into the room he'd been given before trying to seek out those _lovely_ chimeras. If his memory served him correctly, there were three or four that Greed kept with him at all times. The snake he knew well, along with that larger of the bunch. He wasn't quite sure about the other one or two... things were a bit hazy about the day they escaped.

Greed was the first one that Kimblee came across in the later evening, after he’d been reintroduced to the others and set to his own devices, the chimeras having seemed to avoid the gold eyed man’s presence once attendance was no longer required. It could be because he was an alchemist, possibly because of his reputation from before prison, or merely due to the fact that he had been a bastard the few times anyone had tried to speak with him. In any case, Greed was the one that found him shortly after he'd stepped into the big open room they used for sparring, thus interrupting his wanderings.

Well there was the one per… thing he didn't exactly feel like dealing with today. But all was fair in war, and he had long since decided that life was a war. He slowly padded his way into the room, staying near the doorway once he was far enough in to look around. He retreated a step so he could lean against the wall once he was satisfied. "Not exactly a sight for sore eyes Greed. All this space and I still manage to run into you. Lucky me." 

"Well, it's not as though I had anywhere to go. For the moment you are much more entertaining than prowling the city." He shrugged slightly, stepping further into the room as he watched him. "You had given the impression you couldn't care less about changing your clothes." He didn't ask the inherent question behind the words, instead just looking him over. "The color _does_ suit you. I thought it would."

"I may not like the idea of wearing something that isn't _mine_ but that doesn't mean I won't take the opportunity to put on fresh clothes after a shower." He mirrored the shrug before pulling his braid over his shoulder. The wet track against his back wasn't a pleasant feeling, neither the slight chill he got when the air hit it when he moved away from the wall. "Besides, 'bout time my things got a wash."

He moved closer, deciding to test how close the man would let him get now that he'd had a chance to rest up, something he was sure he'd been lacking. "I'd imagine, they didn't look to be in particularly the best shape." Greed smirked a little and shrugged. "And I never said those weren't yours. Just because I gave them to you doesn't mean I expect them back."

Kimblee eyed him warily, trying his best not to let any emotion show in his features. Years of training helped him school the nonchalant and the neutral expression he showed the world. Still, he was incredulous. He may not expect them back, but he didn't give them just to give. He was sure this was going to come back to haunt him later but there was no point dwelling on the maybes. "Ah, but everything from you comes with a price, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but you already agreed to that, remember?" He stepped within arms distance and tugged off his sunglasses, tucking them away into a pocket inside his fluffy vest. "Or did you forget that so soon?" Greed seemed unconcerned for being so close.

"I'm still not clear on exactly what your terms are Greed." He spat the name out like it was acid on his tongue. While he didn’t mind showing his dislike, he realized he needed to calm down a bit, since he found himself focusing far too much on how easy it would be to just destroy the man. Maybe later, but not now. That could wait until he figured a few things out.

"A bit of everything, remember?" He lifted a hand and did one of those air motions again, his smirk just daring Kimblee to go and do something about it. Greed wanted to see what the man could do when he wasn't in a hurry. He was in the mood where losing a limb for a moment wouldn't upset him too terribly, even if it did hurt like a bitch.

In annoyance, Kimblee's opposite hand darted forward and grabbed Greed's wrist in disgust, pulling away from the wall slightly. He nearly growled. Pinning the sin with an unamused and quite annoyed glare he repeated the words he knew the man hadn’t forgotten. "I'm not your fucking pet. _Don’t. Do. That._ "

"But it upsets you so easily." He smirked widely, bringing up his other hand to circle Kimblee's wrist loosely in turn, antagonizing him intentionally. "And I didn't even need to touch you to piss you off either. Why would I stop doing that?"

The tingle of his alchemy rippled lightly off his own palm so he knew the other man had to feel it. His frown turned into something a bit more disturbing and far darker along with the slight malicious glint tinting his eyes. Greed knew what he could do, didn't he? Knew that he could just as easily blow his arm off as he could take out a wall? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps the man liked to play dangerously. "Because it can get you killed otherwise. I don't like it and that should be _more_ than enough incentive."

"Hmm, I don't think it is sufficient actually. I'm not that easy to kill Kimblee." He made sure to keep his shield down, as he didn’t want to clue the alchemist in on that little detail just yet. He tightened his fingers in an almost affectionate squeeze.

Oh that was it. The man was just itching to get under his skin and knew _he_ would take the bait. He had to wonder if Greed had a death wish. With a flare, Kimblee released a partial charge into the wrist as his eyes narrowed dangerously. The light squeeze was not appreciated, nor wanted. When he was sure it would be just enough to scorch the skin down to the inner layers of the fatty tissues, he jerked his hand free of both Greed's hands. "We'll see about that bastard."

Greed sighed and threw his hand out to his side quickly so that the air would cool the burning sensation that immediately beset the tissue, then he turned to look it over, ignoring the healing as he made sure that none of his bangles had been damaged in the upset. He was rather pleased to find that they hadn't been. Kimblee was more precise than he'd realized.

The alchemists eyes widened a fraction before returning to their narrowed state. The involuntary press against the wall wasn't welcome either, but it was automatic and couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t stop himself from staring as he watched the man's tissue reconnect and lighten back to a normal shade of pale cream. "What the hell _are_ you?!"

Greed turned his attention back to Kimblee, amusement clear on his face. "That stung you know. Burns always hurt longer than the other wounds do." He brought his hand back, tracing the air over the other man like he had twice before. "As to what I am... Haven't you got any guesses?"

Kimblee winced away from the illusory petting, almost darting his hand out to give the man another _burn_ he knew wouldn't stay. But he was a bit more on edge after that display, not to mention cautious. He'd never been witness to anyone or anything that could heal like that. Sure, he knew some alchemists that could heal wounds by using the skin of the victim or themselves to cover over... even seen one slightly successful muscle knitting. But what Greed had done was so far beyond that botched attempt. The wrist was perfect again. "How the hell should I know?! Definitely not a chimera as I previously thought. You're something far different."

"I thought that was obvious. Even the chimera didn't end up with eyes like mine. They didn't end up with a title like Greed, and they certainly don't live as long as I do." He wanted the alchemist to guess. It wasn't something he felt like just coming out to tell. "Don't you know any... 'myths' of alchemy?"

"You're fucking annoying. Of course I know a few here and there but I don't believe in fairy tales!" Of course, he was rethinking that matter when the little pieces of some old forgotten legend or some crap like that flitted across his memories. It couldn't be possible, they were just stories to scare little children into obeying the taboo. Little fairy tales to keep the alchemists in line and away from that stem. But now that he'd witnessed something so close to one of those stories... he was inclined to start believing. "You're... one of those _things_." His mouth felt dry and his throat scratchy. "Something that's created from- you can't exist!"

"Something created from what? What am I, hmm?" Greed leaned closer, smirking widely as he pressed his fingers lightly along the collarbone of the alchemist’s shoulder, and he traced the bone. Then he flicked his gaze up to meet the golden one. "Why can't I exist Kimblee?"

Absently, Kimblee reached up to push at the offending fingers from his shoulder. He missed them horribly while staring into those inhuman eyes. His heart was pounding in his chest when he thought of the what it could mean... it couldn't be. "Because there's no such thing."

He laughed lowly, leaning so that why were almost touching noses, that smirk never once slipping. "Really Kimblee? You should realize that there's no such thing as _no such thing_. Now, what am I?"

"Fuck... Homunculi do _not_ exist." He flinched away from that grinning face, still unable to fully accept the truth that was clearly staring in his face. "Homunculus." The more he said it out loud and in his head, the more he began to be able to accept. It was disturbing no matter how he looked at it.

"That wasn't so hard to admit, was it? I exist. I know others like me exist." He moved his other hand to rest on his other shoulder, deeply amused by the sheer disbelief.

Kimblee shook his head roughly, breaking eye contact, only to reinstate it when he turned back. He didn't even register the new touch, nor was he fully registering the old one. Everything he believed in seemed to be crumbling with the realization that something that shouldn't, and by all alchemic laws, couldn't, exist... did. It was impossible, but as Greed said, he did exist so it stood to reason that more could as well. He repressed a shudder at the thought that more inhuman and such immortal creatures were roaming. "It's supposed to be impossible."

"It isn't. If the will is strong enough, then it's wholly possible." He kneaded his hands a little, seeing just how far Kimblee was ignoring the contact. "Anything is possible." He tilted his head, a grin crossing his face, replacing the smirk. "But they don't teach you _that_ do they?"

Kimblee shook his head numbly. He felt slightly jaded, more so than usual. The realm of possibilities that this opened up, swept half a dozen years of his research and study out the door! It wasn't supposed to be possible, and even if it was, it would cost too much in trade for a success. Well, failure... now why?! He couldn’t understand it. There were plenty of people to sacrifice for a weapon this great during the war! Why didn't the brass- Kimblee stopped that thought in its tracks. Of course, they weren't told about this nor left with any desire to pursue it. Something like a homunculus was far too unstable, too dangerous. Too volatile for common uses. What a bunch of bullshit.

How to snap the feral human out of the daze he'd inflicted on him. So many choices. He seemed to be entirely unaware of the fact that he was kneading his shoulders and upper chest. He also couldn't seem to really break off the eye contact. How useful. Only flicking his eyes down once to give him a warning, Greed dipped his head to give the alchemist a kiss. That should do the trick.

Wherever his mind had gone during their little exchange, the action brought him swiftly out of it. He sputtered against the creature’s mouth, eyes wide in shock and something bordering on disgust. Not that the act itself was disgusting but the... well it wasn't that bad. Kimblee ground his teeth against the offending lips with a growl, roughly shoving at the man's chest to push him away.

Greed licked his lips, and he laced his fingers behind his back as he bounced on his heels, regarding Kimblee with amused violet eyes. "You're more predictable than you think you are." He shook his head. "You didn't have to bite so hard."

The back of his hand was against his lips, wiping away the residue left behind. His sneer was back full force. "Next time I'll blow the damn things off. What the hell is your problem Greed?" He supposed he deserved something so simple and unwanted for dropping his guard around this one. Maybe he should press his palm against his thigh for a reminder. Later, not around that thing. He'd probably find amusement in it.

"You were getting a little too deep, and nothing else I was doing was getting your attention. It was either that or moving my hands somewhere more attention getting. Would you have preferred the other?" He raised an eyebrow, fishing in his pocket for the sunglasses.

"You wouldn't have hands anymore." That was all he managed. He pushed down the boiling rage that threatened to erupt from under his skin. His palms itched to wrap around that exposed neck and squeeze. It didn't matter if the creature wouldn't die, Kimblee would be rid of him for however long it took for it to reconstruct itself. Bastard. If he thought he could get away with something like that without punishment... dead wrong.

"Thought so. That out of the way, was it the kiss that bothered you, or the fact that it was me doing it?" He didn't unfold his hands, just watching Kimblee with an amused look. He was sure he'd be having a lot of fun with this man in the future. A person could learn to enjoy that explosive temper.

"Fuck off Greed." The strained words were sharp, and his fingers twitched against his thigh, wanting nothing more than to blow the sin up for his trespass. Hell, it would be satisfying. He pushed away from the wall, intent on secreting away to his room, _far_ away from Greed.

"If you get so upset over a little innocent kiss, then I think you'd be even more upset if I took you up on that particular offer, don't you agree?" Greed moved a little, watching Kimblee with a bemused sort of attention as he blocked the way. "You can't even answer the question before you go?"

The alchemist's eyes sparkled dangerously in their angered intensity. Her rage sought an outlet, something to disintegrate beneath his palms. But it would be useless to try it again on Greed. Satisfying, but pointless. He'd only grow back whatever part was blown away, or burned, then Kimblee would have to suffer him once again. Though, as an afterthought, he wondered if that smirking face would grow back so quickly. "Move."

"Answer and I will." He stared back, reading the bloodthirsty intent in the gold gaze, and he had to say he found himself intrigued. Would he act on it now that he knew it was very likely he’d recover?

Kimblee had had quite enough of this encounter. There were certain things he would and would not discuss. Though the answer would have been simple to just give, he still believed in equivalent exchange, Greed didn't even understand what that meant. A pale hand crested his vision, turning over so he could read the lines beneath the array. His expression dropped, the frowning sneer to be replaced by a neutral turning of his lips. Over the fingertips he stared at Greed before charging the array and stuck it on the man's chest. "Not a persuasive offer... I prefer to _make_ you."

Greed knew already this would hurt like hell, getting killed always did. That wasn't his worry however. "Be glad I'm in a mood to see what you can do. But, you can't damage the clothes." He moved back, just barely keeping Kimblee from actually touching him, and he shook his head. He still didn’t get out of the way. 

"I'm not in the _mood_ to be your entertainment. Move, I won't say it again. And I sure as hell don't care if you want your precious threads to stay intact. It's nothing to me, just like you. I may have agreed to stay here for whatever brush of insanity but I refuse to follow your twisted rules unless they benefit me. You should have figured this out by now Greed." He made another pass at the man's upper torso but didn't move quite far enough to open himself up for attack. He was pissed, not stupid.

Greed tilted his head and sighed. "Really, I just want to know if it was _what_ I did or if it was me doing it. Tell me that and I'd have no reason to keep you from leaving at the moment." He made sure he was just far enough back that blowing him up would equate Kimblee opening his guard.

He really should have known better. His training should have screamed the extremes of wrong through his mind or at least prepared him for this. Though he had expected it, what he hadn't was the white hot rage that blinded him from everything else. He hadn't felt something like this since his capture and it was over something so inane. He must be losing his touch. When the sin made no move to get out of his way, and even seemed amused by his attempts, something snapped inside of Kimblee's resolve and he lunged at the man with clear intent of murder. "I don't feel like sharing!"

Greed dodged his hands, then leaned swiftly up under his guard, catching him in the stomach as he swerved to the side. Kimblee may have lost his temper, but Greed had been paying full attention, and he wasn't about to have anything blown up of himself at the moment, thank you very much. 

To his credit, he didn't reel away. though the hiss of pain and the slight curling around the pain gave him away. This was degrading into something that had nothing to do with their conversation, just his own grudge against the creature for being. He narrowed his eyes and straightened himself as best he could over the ache. "You're an annoying bastard that doesn't know when to leave things be."

"So I've been told. I suffered for it, I'd say I earned the right to do as I please." Greed shrugged, then raised an eyebrow at Kimblee. "I wasn't even being mean either, and you go and try to blow me up. No manners at all."

"You forget so easily. I never bothered to learn any." This wasn't going to get him anywhere. He wrestled his anger back down, pushing it low in his chest before sucking on his pride. Such a little thing could break him later, but for now he would concede. "It was neither. Happy now? Now _move_."

Greed let a smirk feather across his face and nodded before stepping to the side, clearing the path out. He gestured for him to go, tilting his head. "Now that wasn't such a big deal, was it? See you later Kimblee."

He gave him a withering look, then strode out the door with no real purpose. He might have been intent on heading to his room earlier, but now he didn't feel like being alone. Probably because he needed _something_ to blow up. "Hopefully not soon."


	8. Chapter 8

Pompous prick thought he would go quietly. That he would be a good little boy and mind the rules? _Not fucking likely._ Kimblee growled to himself, stalking the hallways of his new hideout. It was surprisingly big for such an out of the way place. He'd figured there were a few hidden rooms here and there, but there was more than one floor to this place. In his distracted, angry mood he stalked down the steps into a relatively dark basement full of crates, platters, stock, and various other miscellaneous items. The area was big enough that the alchemist could get himself lost among the rows of stacked boxes and such for at least long enough to calm himself down. Anything was better than dwelling on what had happened just moments ago. With a strangled yell caught between his throat and the air, Kimblee slammed a fist into the nearest crate, cracking the wood completely. He would show that asshole. Maybe he would set the place ablaze before destroying it and every _thing_ inside before he left... yeah. That sounded like a wonderful idea.

Something crept up beside his boot, placing tiny paws atop the leather. He ignored it at first, still too lost in his angry ramblings to give it attention. The light pressure kept persisting though. First it was just a few taps here and there or a nudge against his ankle. But then it became more gradual and aggressive. When the thing head butted his calf Kimblee reached down and grabbed the animal by its scruff. He wasn't really paying attention to what it was, just that it was some small animal that was annoying him at the _wrong_ time. He didn't think twice about setting its little body ablaze with a timed charge and tossing the thing clear across the basement floor. It all took a matter of three seconds and still nothing registered about what he'd just done. It was trivial anyway. He didn't even know it happened until he heard the sickening squelching pop of explosion and saw the liquid red flowing around some boxes. 

"Shit. Fucking deserved it."

Greed had gone to the kitchen after dealing with Kimblee, having been intent on a snack. Then Law had moved into his path, a slightly worried look on his face, and asked him if he'd seen his rabbit anywhere. Apparently, the small creature had gotten out of her cage again. None of them could understand the big chimera’s attachment to the thing, but Greed had decided he'd head down to see if the little pest had gotten into the boxes again. That's where he'd found the brown creature the last time.

He was about halfway into the room when he heard the sound of the explosion, and he moved off in that direction, having the feeling that his new one had done something he really shouldn't have. After all, he'd told him that he would be informed when he could use his weapons. He considered the blood splatter, seeing bits of fur.

"Deserved or not, you shouldn't have done that."

"Shouldn't have, did anyway." Kimblee sounded bored. He was bent over the carnage left in the wake of the explosion, examining the creature’s remains. Bits of bone and organs lay off to his right, which he was currently looking at. "Actually didn't know I had done anything until the damn thing exploded. Painless enough." 

"That animal was Law's pet. He was very fond of her." He moved forward, watching Kimblee through slightly narrowed eyes. "I did tell you that you would be told when you could play. No part of that was permission to kill pets."

He rolled his eyes, not too concerned over the matter. He hadn't done it on purpose. An accident really so he didn't find any guilt, not that there would have been any anyway. If the creature was stupid enough to bother him while he was in a foul mood, then it deserved to be killed. Kimblee traced a finger through the dark blood, idly tracing a small array. "He'll get over it. If not, then tough shit for him. I'm not sorry even though it wasn't meant. All part of reflex... wouldn’t have been any different if it'd been anything else that was bothering me at the time, not even you. Though you might have been harder to throw across the room."

Greed shook his head, moving up to put his hand on Kimblee's back, steps quick to keep Kimblee from getting out of it too fast. "No, you don't understand. You broke a rule I was rather sure I'd made clear. Those weapons of yours weren't to be put into use until I said."

Though Kimblee made no real attempt to move from his stooped position, he did tense his shoulders in annoyance. "And just what makes you think I'd listen to you? No one restricts me from anything, especially you. It was a fucking accident and I don't really care who's _pet_ it was. To hell with your rules as well. If you'll recall, I don't follow them."

"That, Kimblee, is where you are wrong. You can ignore some rules without it bothering me, but there are others that I _won't_ allow you to break. You blowing up things I didn't say you could counts as one I won't let you break." Not that he'd liked the rabbit, it had annoyed him too, but there was a point that needed to be made here.

"Pike off already Greed. Your little spiel is lost on me. I quit listening to your little speeches back in the laboratory." He stood up and regarded the red stains on his fingers. He honestly didn't mean to kill the little creature but he couldn’t feel sorry for the loss. It was just a rabbit and therefore, nothing to him.

"I do enforce my rules." He didn't move away from him, watching the way he reacted. It was intriguing seeing the way he viewed the animal, but intriguing or not, he wasn't about to make a liar of himself.

Kimblee turned slightly and batted Greed's hand away from him. How many times did he have to remind the sin that he _did not_ like being touched for any reason unless _he_ allowed it. And he sure as hell didn't give Greed permission to put his filthy hands on his person. Damned thing didn't own him, and he sure as hell wasn’t one of the man's pets. He'll be damned before he was ever that depraved. "I really don't care."

"You should. You _are_ living here, feral or not." He shook his head. "You couldn't even last two days before you made me have to prove my point."

"Call it a bout of stupidity on my part for accepting your offer." He offered crudely, shaking his head. "And why should I care about your rules? I barely care about anything. Be glad I kept myself under self-restraint this long. Even if this was merely an _accident_ , be lucky that it wasn't one of your precious chimeras. They would have been far more satisfying... and I might have actually _noticed_ them first."

"Surely it isn't too difficult for you to follow _one_ rule Kimblee." He moved a little closer, shaking his head. "And the chimeras are off limits to you, no matter _what_ is going through your head."

"Never said it was difficult to follow rules... just stated that I _don't_ follow them if it doesn't suit me. Never have and never will. Too much of a big deal over a fucking rabbit. Freak must have been really attached to it or you are one." Kimblee smirked, "Funny, I don't peg you as a _bunny_ type."

"I could care less about the rabbit, and if I'd said you could blow the rabbit up, then I'm sure I couldn't have been more pleased." He shook his head then sighed in a put-upon manner. "But these things must be reprimanded when small, otherwise the next thing I know, you _will_ go after one of my chimeras."

Kimblee placed his hands on his hips, frowning at Greed with a raised eyebrow for emphasis. "Probably go after one of them if they annoyed me too much. I don't make excuses for my behavior nor am I sorry for my actions. I take it day by day and come what may. That's what happens. They piss me off there are no guarantees I won't use them for target practice."

Greed lifted his hand, unable to suppress a smirk. He hadn't cared for being told what to do himself, so he could understand, but he still had a little rebel on his hands. He didn't want to lock this one up or drive him away though. That would be a waste. He flicked a loose strand of hair out of the man's face. "You really are a unique human."

The eyebrow rose just a fraction more, his eyes hardening slightly. He moved his hand to swat away Greed's, again, but ended up just using the back of his hand to push it away. "Here you are talking about following rules and you can't seem to follow _one_ yourself." He was losing patience again and knew that this was going to cause him to blow the thing's head off... or die trying.

"I can't help liking pretty things. Especially unique pretty things." He shrugged, peering over his sunglasses at the man, his tiny smirk growing. "Besides, I'm not hurting anything, now am I?"

Kimblee's grin wasn't friendly. "Equivalent trade then. You ignore my rules I ignore yours. I think it evens things out a bit, don't you?" It was a rather obscure way of looking at things but it sure gave the alchemist one up on the sin. It was a sense of fair trade in the matter. If Greed insisted on ignoring his outright _hate_ of being touched and/or being viewed as some sort of pet then he would ignore _everything_ the creature said to him in the way of behaving. Tch, like he would ever behave anyway. "You can like whatever the hell you want. But I refuse to let you get any type of enjoyment out of viewing me as one of your little _pets_."

"You're working on the premise that I follow equivalent trade. I'm no alchemist. Simply creating me broke many rules, why would I follow your ultimate law? As to being a pet, you'd be one the same way a tiger would be I think. If I were trying for that." And he wasn't. He just didn't want Kimblee blowing things up that he shouldn't be, and he wanted to touch him.

"So we're both rule breakers. _Nice_ to know we have something in common." He stated flatly and turned to look at the mess on the floor. He ignored Greed, for the most part, as he bent down towards his bloody array. He placed the stained finger atop the lines activating the alchemy. Soon, the blood began to pool around the mark as the light began to flair from all around it. A blinding flash later the mess of blood, bones, and fur was gone. Left in its wake was nothing more than a few rabbit's foot trinkets sans the metal chain. He didn't exactly have anything in the exchange for that nicety.

Greed gave Kimblee a rather annoyed look for that. Yes, he appreciated the lack of waste, but he was _talking_ to him here. That meant that he wasn't supposed to ignore him. "I'm sure there are other things." He ran his fingers along Kimblee's spine, perfectly prepared to tick him off to regain his attention.

Kimblee lurched forward in response, landing on his hands and knees. His braid fell over his shoulder during the fall and smacked him across the cheek. Though it hadn’t actually hurt, it did sting just a tad when it made contact with his eye. The one in question was turned over his shoulder to glare at the smirking sin. "I don't want to fucking know if we have anything else in common!" He shouted angrily as he moved to get up.

Greed raised an eyebrow, peering down at him, and he stepped forward, taking back the space that had been lost with the rather unexpected reaction. "Well, I'm sure it'll become clear anyway. You didn't need to get on the floor you know."

"You're the ass that sent me sprawling!" He countered indignantly. His pride was a little trampled at being made a fool of. The touch hadn't been expected, nor welcomed, but it shouldn't have made him react like that. Maybe it was just his nerves and the stress? Probably... maybe not. Who knew? He didn't.

"I didn't shove you. In fact, I only touched you very lightly." He leaned over, running his finger along the alchemist's jaw in a similar touch. He was rather amused that Kimblee hadn't risen out of the crouch yet.

Kimblee turned his head away from the touch with a disgusted sneer. He leaned away from the offending hand and got to his feet as quickly as he could without having to get close to Greed any more than he had to. He sent the man an unamused look. "And I believe I've gone over _repeatedly_ about not touching me _at all_."

"So you did. Did you assume I'd _care_?" He followed him once he hit his feet, almost amused to note that Kimblee was barely two feet from the wall at this point. "I like touching you, even if you are prickly."

The glare was turned up a notch as he bared his teeth in a grimace, taking a step back to put at least some small distance between them. "I assume nothing. And keep your goddamned hands to yourself. I don't care if you _like_ touching me, the point is you _won't_ be _allowed_ to do it. You're wanting me to test my theory about blowing your fucking head off, Greed. And, believe me, I'm close enough to that point that I've no problem adding a new stain to the floor down here."

Greed moved forward again, shaking his head a little. "I haven't tried to hurt you, so just what exactly do you have against letting me touch you? I'm almost certain I haven't done anything sexual except that kiss." He paused, smirking again. "Of course, is that the problem?"

"What the hell is it with you and touching? Not everyone _likes_ idle caresses or lingering touches. I am one of those people. If someone wants to touch me they better have a damned good reason for me not to blow their hands off. You don't have a good enough one for me to consider so back off already." The rage was returning again. He wondered where it had been during their talk about the bunny. Stupid animal started this entire mess. He made a mental note to _bother_ Law about it later. "And what do you mean is that the problem?! The problem is you not being able to keep your bloody hands to yourself."

"I never keep my hands to myself. If I kept my hands to myself, I wouldn't have been in any position to have gotten this lot out of that place." He gestured above stairs, then moved a little closer. One more step and Kimblee would have effectively backed himself into a corner.

He was a little shocked, as the slight grunt attested, when his back met the wall. How the hell did he end up this far from where he'd started?! He cursed Greed under his breath and looked to either side for a means of traversing the annoyance in favor of going back to his room. "I'm sure they're all grateful for that little fact but I am _not_."

"You didn't get out all by yourself. Even I didn't get out of there all by myself, though I don't know who helped start the escape." He skimmed his eyes over the man, from head to toe, then he took another step forward. "So you would have preferred being strapped in like you were when I found you?" He moved his hand up, running one finger along the man's shoulder.

He thanked whatever god there was that he didn't flinch this time, though there was a slight cringing at the edges of his eyes. "It would have happened eventually or they would have killed me. Either option was better than nothing at all. I don't particularly care who started it but I will say I'm a bit grateful for it. I hate being caged like some rabid animal." He sneered for effect trying to ignore the light tracing. "As for being _strapped in_ , as you so fondly refer to it... I broke four of those damned things before and was close to breaking that one. They couldn't keep my hands from me for long. I wouldn't suggest trying to get another one of those grapples on me either." The sin may not even be thinking along those lines but he sure as hell was. He never wanted to be made helpless like he'd been with that barricade on his wrists. It wasn't as if he was completely helpless but his main weapons were kept from him and that made him feel slightly vulnerable. And there was one thing the Crimson Alchemist was not and that was vulnerable!

"I wouldn't even consider it." He didn't want to ruin Kimblee like that, and he shook his head a little. "I wouldn't have even tried to get you here in the first place if I'd wanted to do that to you, what would have been the point?" He unfolded his hand, using all his fingertips.

Kimblee didn't exactly believe him but he was fairly sure that it would never happen. He was trying to ignore the slight kneading but his damned body was betraying him by relaxing underneath the ministrations of skilled fingers. Damned creature probably was getting a laugh out of that and the alchemist couldn't find the urge to knock the hand away. "Point taken, but still getting my message across."

He moved his hand so he was kneading just the slightest bit, and he nodded slightly. "I don't like confinement, and it's certainly not something I prefer to inflict." The other hand, the one with the ouroboros, moved up to start lightly on his other shoulder.

Exasperation flooded his entire frame right down to his toenails. He just couldn't stop could he? Always had to be touching. How he hated that... not that touching was a bad thing but he hated being ignored. They'd ignored him in the laboratory too. Then again, he did take quite a few of those bastards out when they wouldn't listen. His smirk lightened at the mental images of Greed's hands exploding wrist deep just as that one particular idiot back in his first few weeks _inside_. Some of the tension left his shoulders, startling him out of his reverie. He glared down at the hands then directly into those unnatural eyes. "You'll never stop _that_ no matter how much I _insist_?"

He tipped his head to more easily meet his gaze, and he smoothed his hands from the kneading motion, just resting them. "You haven't ever let anyone give you a massage, have you?" It was a purely curious question.

"Why would I? They’re a waste of time and effort if you ask me. Who cares about the benefits when it takes too long to get results." He answered back simply. "There's no room for wasted time in life, so why indulge?"

"It doesn't take that long, it depends on just how bad the person doing it is." He paused, considering a moment. "It's only wasted time if it's spent on something that you wouldn't enjoy in the end."

Kimblee shook his head in annoyance. "It _is_ a waste of time. The end results can have the person singing like a lark but it's pointless. Who cares if it's done to give relief or some such rot as that to another. I don't see the point in them." He scoffed hotly. "It’s just an excuse for people to run their grubby hands over each other if you ask me. Normally that wouldn't be such a big deal, but to cover up true intentions with such dribble. HA."

"I personally believe that nothing is a waste of time so long as something is gained in the end. Even being in purgatory was worth something in the end." He considered Kimblee a moment. "As to covering up true intentions, some people are like that."

A delicate eyebrow moved towards his hairline and mumbled slightly, "What could be gained from purgatory? A new perspective on life or some philosophical shit like that?" Those violet eyes were beginning to bother him. It wasn't their color or even their owner that really got to him... it was more the fact that they weren't something that was gained through normal means. No, they were gained by a mistake. Or was Greed's creation intentional? Kimblee reminded himself to ask the sin one of these days, if neither killed each other in that stretch of time.

"No. It gave me a chance to find a group of the unique. But we've already been over that, haven't we? No need to go back through it twice in one day." He spread his fingers where he'd rested them, having found an intense dislike of complete stillness in the recent years.

"No thank you. I don't wish to sit through _that_ again. Once in a lifetime is quite enough." He looked down at the hands on his shoulders again taking in the structure. They were human enough, the same frame and perhaps bones. It was just the ends that could shape into deadly claws that was the only mar. He returned his gaze to Greed's face. "Now about intentions. Planning on letting me move yet?"

"I was rather enjoying seeing you calm for a moment." He slid his hands a little, in a motion that was _almost_ lifting his touch away. "I hadn't had a chance for that before."

"Because I am _never_ calm. You can't stop the torrent of power or bloodthirsty desire with simple massages or idle chatter. Too much going on to actually be calm." The alchemist shrugged and leaned more relaxed against the wall.

Greed laughed quietly and dipped his head, grinning at Kimblee. "I understand that you know. You can't be me and not understand that. But still, the facsimile is intriguing enough."

"So, what? Am I your psych project now?"

"No." He lifted his hands away fully, moving them to the wall instead, restlessly. "If I asked to pet you, how would you react?" He moved one hand to quickly tuck his glasses away before returning it to the wall.

Well, that represented an interesting quandary. He loathed the idea of being touched as well as being a pet, of any kind, so the notion of being petted sent alarms and defenses off throughout his body. But somewhere in there was another sensation. One that was both pleased and intrigued by being _asked_. Before, Greed had just taken it upon himself to initiate the act in some attempt to get a rise out of him, or so Kimblee firmly thought. "What the hell does _petting_ consist of with you?" He was a bit curious and more than ready to deck the man if he didn't like the idea.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously having to puzzle out an answer for that one. "More or less what I've been doing for the most part. A bit less confined perhaps, but otherwise." He stopped there with a shrug.

Kimblee considered that vague answer a moment before pinning Greed with a curious look. "Hmm, I'm not sure I'd object too roughly if it was merely that. The more I know, the less pain and mess in the end."

"Should I just say that I want to touch you? I do know how to start small." He leaned in a little, watching him.

"But there's the difference between you and others. You want everything. But I think allowing you to paw at my shoulders is far enough for a creature like you." Kimblee remarked rather rudely, trying to push himself away from the wall... and away from Greed. He was mildly uncomfortable with being pinned, and even more so for being in a closed area with a creature he knew very little about. If Greed had been human things might be different. Kimblee hated to admit it to himself but he was slightly afraid of the sin.

Greed laughed a little, and he leaned so their noses were almost touching, violet eyes intent. "So I want everything. I know I'm not the only one that's greedy. Are you worried because I'm the only _Greed_?"

Kimblee's glare was somewhat muted when faced with a partial truth. He didn't know if he was more wary of the man because he was _the_ sin or if it was because he was _a_ sin. In the long run, it wouldn't have mattered, he supposed. It was still bothersome and gave him, _him_ , the creeps. "Humans have their own form of greed... but you are _greed_. Nothing will ever satisfy you."

Greed's eyes narrowed a little, then a slightly sardonic smile flitted across his face. "That doesn't mean I can't _try_ , does it?" 

"Whatever makes you happy, I don't care." He didn't think of what those words could imply, merely wanted to get across that he honestly didn't care about Greed or his actions. He just wanted to get back up those stairs and away from the basement.

He arched an eyebrow, a smirk crossing his face. "Well, since you said so..." He moved his hands back to his shoulders and lightly squeezed, then he leaned to kiss the man, doing what made him _happy_.

A split second of wide-eyed disbelief passed before Kimblee rose both hands to press firmly on Greed’s chest as well as jerking his face quickly to the side. What the hell was Greed thinking?! He didn't give the sin apt permission to kiss him again! Hell, he barely gave the man permission to touch him. So what was Greed thinking by trying to kiss him again?!! His angry growl vibrated deep in his throat. "That is _not_ what I meant and you know it."

"I will take it at face value, because that is what you said. It's not my fault you didn't say what you _meant_." He dipped his head, resting a light nip on the throat Kimblee had bared with his action.

The slight shiver was completely involuntary and Kimblee knocked his head against the wall in shock. The hands that were pushing against Greed's chest momentarily tightened in the fabric. "You're not dense Greed, nor am I. You know exactly what I meant you just chose to ignore it."

"No, I'm not dense. I just don't choose to ignore an answer just because it wasn't said in the best tone for the content of the words." He repeated the nip, having caught the reaction, and he curled his fingers into a light hold.

The alchemist's breath hitched slightly when the teeth met his flesh again. Damn if that didn't feel good, but double damn if he didn't want it to happen a third time. Greed was annoying him again. The sin honestly had a knack for getting under someone's skin. Of course, there wasn't much Kimblee could do about that since everything he could think of would result in the same thing. Greed would reconstruct himself and be after him once again. Then again... if he blew the fucker's head off that might give him just enough time to get out of this place. He was so tempted to do just that but somehow he couldn't find the resolve to move. "You're a complete bastard."

"I'm sure I am." He nipped a third time, not lifting his head as he nibbled a line with his teeth, the sharp edge to them felt but not hurting.

A light groan escaped Kimblee's lips causing him to curse straight afterward. He would _not_ let himself be dragged into this situation. It wasn't in him to just concede to what fate offered him. He renewed his efforts to push Greed off of him, but still there was no real force in the attempt. What was wrong with _him_ , he shouldn't have any problems getting an annoyance away. But there he was still trapped between Greed's body and hard surface of the wall. "Get off me."

Greed responded by leaning into him more fully as he slid his hands down to rest on his sides, kneading lightly against him. He moved his nibbles lower, and when he touched cloth, he lingered only for a second before biting. Not enough to break skin, but it was more than a nibble. 

Again he couldn't stop the groan that ripped from his throat nor the tensing of his muscles. He sucked in a hissing breath and struggled slightly against those damned teeth and hands. It was getting harder to concentrate on just what he was getting away from though he knew this situation wasn't of his making. Why the hell did things have to be this hard with Greed? Did the sin honestly enjoy the long route or pain in general? "I... said… errr, get off."

Greed lifted his head a little, lapping at the bruise he'd made as he leaned in, pressing against him a bit. "I heard." He then nuzzled a little before lifting his head to kiss Kimblee again.

"You don't listen well enough then." He tried to say around the mouth now occupying his own. It wasn't exactly easy to talk when something was hindering your lips. This time, he didn't really resist the motion, nor did he comply with it. He just let Greed press against his mouth and offered little resistance to much else but he'd be damned if he let it be that easy. After a moment of letting the kiss linger, he jerked his head again and glared into those inhuman violet eyes.

He smirked back, tilting his head to nibble along his jaw, eyes half-closing as he tugged the man a fraction from the wall so he was pressed against him, hands in the way or not.

"You're flirting with disaster Greed." Kimblee managed to sound gruff though he knew it wasn't how it would end up if Greed kept up. It wasn't all that bad to tell the truth but it wasn't what he _wanted_ to happen. He wanted to continue to keep the sin at a distance, to be in constant conflict. It would have given him something to focus his rage on in a pinch when his plans were still far from perfected. Now this was getting in the way.

"Maybe I like disaster." He purred lowly in the back of his throat, nuzzling at the very back of Kimblee's jaw. He took advantage of the slackened grip to get fuller contact with him, spreading his fingers on his back.

He was getting pulled into the enjoyable sensations, nearly letting himself relax into the man's hold. But the slight pressure at the base of his spine reminded him just who the hell was holding him in the first place. He was thankful his hands were still firmly planted against the sin's chest. With a sneer, he began to slowly charge his palms. There was no real intention to actually blow a hole into the sin's chest, it was merely to get Greed's attention. 

He lifted his head, a pleased, but not really smug look on his face as he brushed cheeks with him, murmuring a little. "Are you going to be using those?"

His glare wavered slightly to the point he looked away. The man was absolutely infuriating. Maybe he _should_ blow a hole in the bastard's chest. Would teach him a lesson about messing with the Crimson alchemist. But he didn't and that puzzled him to no end. "That's usually the plan."

"Is it this time?" He ran his hand up along Kimblee's spine, laying a kiss over his pulse with a dip of his head, grazing his teeth over the delicate area immediately after.

The whispered question caught Kimblee off guard in a way. What had he expected? He should have known by now that his brand of alchemy wouldn't turn Greed away. Greed wasn't normal in that respect. No matter if he decided to cause another explosion, Greed would still be there and the sin damn well was using that knowledge to his advantage. It was probably all in Kimblee's head about Greed knowing what he was thinking, but then again he just didn't know. "I... may... No." It wasn't eloquent in the least, but it's how it came out. He was slightly confused and lowered the reaction in his palms until they were a dull thrum against the sin's chest.

"No? Alright." He played his hand back up in a firm stroke, and he let a little smile play over his lips. "So if I kiss you again, will you kiss back?"

"If it happens then it happens. I'm not agreeing to anything with you. It will end me up in trouble I'm not prepared for." He turned to stare back into Greed's eyes. "And I hate not being prepared for anything."

He nodded a little and dipped close, his breath felt across the other man's lips as he spoke quietly. "I can understand that. I suppose that's why plans must be made, yes?" He then tipped his head a fraction, not breaking eye contact. He didn't intend to keep it as chaste this time though.

Kimblee sneered in response to that. As if anything could be planned and followed through accordingly with him. He was under rule again and he wasn't exactly sure if he disliked it as much as he first had. He needed to get away for awhile to collect himself and his scattered thoughts. "That's the problem with plans... they always get _broken_."

"That saying goes for _rules_ , not plans." That said, he ran his hand up to wrap Kimblee's braid around his hand, and he kissed him again, running his tongue over his lip. He kept his other hand firmly in the middle of his back.

His hands clenched the material of Greed's shirt in a mock of his former intention, instinctively reared back away from the intrusiveness of the kiss but found that a sharp pain brought him to a halt. His eyes narrowed and his frown was felt against the man's tongue. He would have opened his mouth to complain and say a few choice words but didn't want to give Greed the opportunity to slip his tongue inside his mouth. Though he would cause more non-alchemic damage to the sin by biting his tongue harshly.

Getting no favorable reaction that way, he nibbled at Kimblee's lower lip a little, putting tension on his braid to keep him in place. He wanted at least one kiss out of the man.

Kimblee grimaced at the constant thrum of pain etching itself across his skull. It was a minor hurt, but damn it was bothersome. Greed was pushing his buttons while trying to get him to relent into his touch. He was going to hold out and refuse the sin what he wanted. Or try to at least. He could say one thing of the sin, he knew how to persuade. He was trying everything to make him give him a kiss back short of... well short of a lot of things, so Kimblee wasn't complaining about the less taken road, as it were. But if things kept up as they were he could just picture himself giving in. How long had it been since someone willing pursued him in this fashion after all?

Greed tightened his fingers in the braid with a little tug, his other hand running up and down along his back. He turned the nibbling to a little bite, growling softly. That, of course, sent Kimblee reeling for revenge. It's not that it hurt, but it was the principle of the matter. It was the idea of getting hurt and not being able to do something extreme in retaliation. How he loathed Greed at the moment, but he couldn't help the slight groan from delayed pleasure. So he was a sadomasochist, he could live with it. One of his hands loosened its grip on Greed's shirt to slip slightly higher by no real means of Kimblee’s, it was just a reaction. Greed moved the hand he'd wrapped Kimblee's hair around, easing off the pressure to lace his fingers into the base of the braid, running his tongue over the bite. He was petting his spine with the other hand, tracing his nails up and down.

Kimblee shuddered slightly at the contact on his back. That, combined with the constant semi-pain from both the released grip on his hair to the lapping of the shallow bite was making him weak to the suggestion. It also made him want to find out just how Greed tasted. The sin felt the man relax a fraction, leaning against him fully as he growled softly, tipping his head to try deepening the kiss again. Maybe this time he wouldn't have to deal with tightly sealed lips. The added pressure caused the alchemist to tip back towards the wall, leaning against his shoulders so he wouldn’t smash Greed's caressing hand. The tingles sent along his spine were far too enjoyable to have stopped for the sake of convenience. The loosened hand crept further up until a palm cupped alongside the sin's neck. With one last failed attempt at resistance, Kimblee gave in to his own desire and opened his mouth to pull the trailing tongue into his mouth.

The sin growled lowly, taking advantage of the yield swiftly, deepening the kiss as he continued to move his hand along his back. He tightened his other hand a little, flexing his fingers as he leaned into him. The constant arch in Kimblee’s back was putting a strain on his spine; another pain to add to the mix. He let Greed's tongue roll over his, tasting what the sin had to offer. There was a heady taste of alcohol and smoke, though he knew the man didn't smoke what he was picking up. The smoky air from the bar perhaps, or his last kiss. There was also something else dancing off the homunculus' tongue, but Kimblee couldn't quite place it. He didn't really care to either, so engaged with exploring on his own.

Greed moved the hand doing the nail stroking from behind Kimblee, moving it to his side without stopping the motion, pressing the man more fully against the wall as he ravished his mouth, in contact with him from the lips down.

The alchemist broke the kiss just as quickly as he allowed it to further, turning his head down to stare at the darkened floor. This wasn't what he had intended to end up doing when he came down here. He didn't like the fact that he was against the wall again with a very eager sin pressing into him like a second skin. On some levels, it was more than acceptable, but then again most things were to a point where they concerned Kimblee. He wasn't hard to please in most cases. This, however, was something both wanted and despised. He didn't want to be feeling aroused, no matter how low the stage was, with just a mere wanting kiss and pressing of flesh, nor did he want it to be caused by Greed. He actually didn't know what he wanted except for that damned hand to stop tickling his side.

Greed took a deep breath, slowly stilling his hand against the man's ribs. He nuzzled his cheek slightly, having the distinct feeling that he would be getting used to these mood swings in the future. He nibbled his jaw a little, more or less just holding the man otherwise.

When he felt himself able to talk with his normal tone, none of that husky shit for him, he turned a muted glare back at Greed. "You've had your _touch_ Greed. Now ...shove off." He may have said it gruffly, but he made no move to push the sin off him or try to get away.

Greed couldn't help a slightly amused look, then he shook his head a little, laying an open-mouthed kiss at his jaw. Sliding the hand out of Kimblee's hair, he kept his fingers in a loose fist, hanging onto the tail of black while he nudged the alchemist to look at him again. "I don't really want to."

"I think I've said it before, I don't care what you _want_." His voice rose a fraction showing his irritation. He gave the arse what he wanted to begin with, it should have been enough. But then again this was Greed... nothing ever was.

"And all you want is to be left completely alone, is that it?" He brushed a kiss across his lips, then lifted his head. 

Pale pink flesh darted across his lips, lapping at the lingering taste without really thinking. It was an automatic response. He didn't even try to look the creature in the eye because he knew that if he did his resolve would crumble and he'd lean in for another kiss. Not something he wanted the other to know quite yet, if _ever_. Instead, he aimed his glare at those damned sharp teeth peering behind slightly flushed lips. "Got it in one. Not so dense after all."

Greed caught the aversion of his eyes, and he was puzzled to say the least. He tipped the man's head a little. Kimblee simply hadn't struck him as the sort to avoid eye contact without some reason. "I'm not dense, I just willfully ignore these things."

"I'm on the _verge_ of carrying through my earlier threat. You're a very annoying bastard that is going to get himself blow to pieces." Kimblee answered back giving the man a deep frown and roll of his eyes.

Greed moved his hand from Kimblee's chin and shrugged out of his vest, making sure the sunglasses were secure before he tossed it off to the side. He didn't move away during this, and he just leaned back against him when he was done, resuming his nuzzling as though he hadn't paused. "Fine, go ahead if you're going to."

Narrowed eyes glared at the self-assured bastard. He was goading him, he knew, and doing a damned good job at it. Greed was so confident that he wouldn't or he was sure that Kimblee wouldn't be able to hurt him! It didn't take him much more to press his hands flat against both areas his hands happened to be at and activate the reaction. He pulled the needed elements from inside of Greed's body and the air around. He smirked broadly once the connection was complete. "You may have a headache later." He purred dangerously down at the sin. "Good luck with that." 

Greed quirked his lips, dead certain about one thing. This was going to hurt like a bitch. "Not worried you'll get all bloody?"

Kimblee licked his lips again, turning the corners up in a dark parody of a smile. It was almost too good to wait for but he didn't have much longer before he got his reward. "I'm counting on it."

Greed smirked and closed his eyes, tilting his head down. "Of course." It was just a murmur, and he could feel the reaction simmering. It wasn't one that could destroy him, but oh this would hurt.

Kimblee chuckled low in his throat watching Greed's reactions. He wasn't surprised by the cool demeanor, nor the careless expression. The homunculus was more than able to heal after the explosions so why would he care? The Crimson alchemist watched intently, waiting for the flash of light and splattered gore to come afterward. He knew he'd regret it later, but the immediate satisfaction would be well worth it.

Greed was a bit squeamish about messes at times, and he was tempted to rearrange himself into a protective shield, but he knew that at this point that would do more harm than good. Instead, he just dealt with the explosion quietly, eyes closed as he went to his knees, waiting for his body to mend in the rather large gap that had been formed in him. It wasn't as big as Kimblee wound have expected though, blowing up less of the sin.

Normally, the explosion would produce more spark and flare before the soft outer tissues would veritably explode, sending bone and organ fragments spewing forth. But that, whatever the hell _that_ was, wasn't like it should have been. Of course, there was dark warm blood spilling from the throat and chest wounds, as there should be, but the carnage that flew from them wasn't the correct amount for the type of explosion provided. Kimblee narrowed his eyes down at the obviously hurting homunculus in distaste and wiped a smattering of blood that hit his cheek. "I'm disappointed Greed. You weren't much of a show after all."

Greed lifted his head eyes half-closed in pain. "Feel better?" The wounds were knitting, but his voice was barely audible, more mouthed than spoken with the pained smirk. He was just waiting until he could stand again without falling back down.

Kimblee made a humming noise as a response but not much more. His attention was now on the newly forming throat. It was fascinating to watch the mangled bloodied meat of the throat weave itself back together under his careful gaze. Blood still dripped freely but wasn't flowing as one would think with a wound such as that. He idly wondered if it was the same for the chest but didn't stoop to Greed's level to find out. He was too enthralled by the display to seek refuge upstairs.

He pushed up to his feet, wavering a bit before he balanced himself, and he brought a hand to touch his throat, making sure it was all healed. It always felt weird when something like that happened.

"I suppose I stand corrected. That's a neat _party trick_. I wonder how much _damage_ you can take before you're not able to heal." Kimblee was now looking at Greed with a new hunger to his eyes. One that had rarely been seen since the days of the war. His fingers itched to reach up and caress that smirking face and see how much would come off with a touch. He kept himself in check though, not wanting to give in. If he was lucky the sin would be angry and try to get revenge for that little _upset_.

Greed pushed Kimblee against the wall, apparently ignoring the blood that liberally adorned him. "That wasn't really an answer to my question. I asked if you felt better."

As soon as the alchemist's back hit the wall he knew that it might have been wiser to flee while the _enemy_ was down. It wasn't as if he didn't expect it but the force knocked the wind from his lungs causing him to gasp for breath. His smirk didn't falter though he was still amused. "Ju... st peachy... looks like you're... having a bad day."

"You owe me something for that." Greed pressed along him much as he'd been earlier, but this time the look was more predatory than merely interested, and there was a definite growl in his voice.

Kimblee returned the growl with one of his own and roughly pushed at Greed's newly formed chest. "I owe you nothing. Get. Off. Me. Or do we repeat out last objective lesson?"

Greed moved his hands, catching Kimblee's in his own and pressing them on the wall so the arrays weren't in touch. "I gave you something, now I want something for letting you hurt me."

He struggled against the firm hold on his wrists, jutting his body away from the wall in an attempt to dislodge the sin's grasp. "I gave you what you wanted first Greed. You and your damned _touching_. I was even _nice_ enough to let you have your kiss. I think blowing your neck off was fair trade!"

"No fair trade here. You didn't think I'd let you hurt me without wanting something in return, did you? If you did, you were sorely mistaken." He licked his lips, getting some of the blood splatter off himself. "Besides, you made a mess of me, only right that you be messy too."

A ripple of unease cascaded through his body though nothing registered on his face. He refused to let the sin know how wary he was of the consequences he wrought upon himself. For someone that spent the majority of their life following the simple rules of equivalent trade Kimblee was more than affronted that he had to defend their exchange. He knew the sin was greedy but he didn't think he would take it this far. Poor judgment on his part, he readily admitted, and now he was paying for it. "Looking to try, Greed." It was a statement since he knew that's exactly what the man planned to do.

A smirk came to his face then, washing away the predatory look as though it hadn't been there, though it lingered in his eyes. "Of course." He dipped his head... And lapped a drop of blood off his face. 

Kimblee shied away from the pink tongue. He had no desire to have the homunculus lick any part of him anymore. Greed had his fun earlier, he'd let him, now that the he'd had his own he wanted nothing more than to retreat to his bedroom and take a long nap. His energy reserves were still a tad low but he was sure a few more tiny explosions, say ones to take off that fucking head, wouldn't cost him much. He just needed to get his wrists free. Just one would do half the damage so it was an either or situation.

"But I don't feel like leaving my blood all over you." He turned his head a fraction to lap at a few other drops of crimson, eyes half shut. He didn't ease his grip in the least.

"Then get a fucking towel. Stop using your tongue like some kind of dog. Or do you prefer to be viewed as mutt like that mongrel upstairs?" He kept trying to move his face away though the humor laced his words through the actions.

"I just like the taste of blood, it's close to the taste of one of my most favorite things." He followed his action, lapping up the blood whether he wanted him to or not. It was _his_ blood, he could do with it what he pleased.

Kimblee continued to struggle, making slight grimaces every so often. He felt like some oversized lollipop being snacked on like some afternoon treat. He most definitely wasn't enjoying this experience. "I don't care what you like, if you'll recall. Stop leaving your saliva all over my face." 

Greed snickered lowly and changed his approach, nibbling at a spot of blood near Kimblee's collarbone. "Perhaps I got a little carried away, it happens occasionally."

"I find that highly likely with someone like _you_. You've had your fun, let me go and move out of my way. I don't care to waste any more of my time with you or in this damned basement." He tugged roughly at his hands. If this didn't produce results soon he would fall back onto some of the more basic of his military training maneuvers.

"It's your own fault for blowing holes in me. I don't want my blood to go to waste." He tightened his hands, hardening them to prevent him freeing the damn things before he was done. He lifted his head, looking over his face a moment before nipping at his chin.

He felt the shift the second Greed strangled his slender wrists. To feel cold foreign material where once warm flesh wrapped tightly against his own was a bit of a shock. He tilted his head upwards to spy the extended claws and darkened skin. Though he couldn't rightly call it skin anymore. It was something else, something not remotely human. If he'd had more time or been a bit less _occupied_ he might have sat there to examine the fluidly converted black core skin. "You're more twisted than I am."

Greed laughed lowly, nipping at his shoulder before he slid down, leaning over to run his tongue along the inside of one captive wrist. "Yes, I imagine so long with nothing has made me even worse than I once was."

Kimblee clenched his hands into fists and tried to wriggle the one being licked away. It was useless and he knew it but that didn't stop him from trying. If he could only get the bastard to let go he'd show him how much worse it could be when the Crimson Alchemist was pissed off. And he was certainly pissed off now as his radiating anger converted to white-hot rage boiling in his eyes. "Some would call it an overcompensation for the lack of _have_. I call it bloody idiotic." He growled hotly, "The more you have the more you stand to lose."

"I know what it feels like to lose everything, I can put up with that happening again and again as long as I have a chance of getting it _back_." He pulled back before twisting to lap at the other wrist, well aware he was pissing the man off, but he didn't honestly care.

"And you're planning to lose it all again at this rate." He muttered darkly, still tugging in vain for the release of his hands. Things were degrading, in his mind, and needed to be changed. He slipped into military instinct and tensed his body flat against the wall. He was going to use himself as leverage to knock the bastard off his feet and if that didn't work he'd shatter the kneecaps in a bid to gain freedom. He was a discerning man with years of practice, he'd find an opening and take it. 

Greed was quick about it though, and Kimblee felt flesh against his hands again as Greed leaned back on his heels, tipping his head back to look up at him. "I wouldn’t be too shocked if that turned out to be true."

The alchemist grew slightly pensive, though gave no outward signs of changing his aggressive front. That was the talk of fools and he was relatively sure Greed wasn't a fool. Maybe a bit addled in the head, but not foolish. He wasn't even human so maybe acting as if he didn't care was part of what made the sin what he was. It didn't shine any light on his mind, so to speak, but it gave Kimblee some awareness of just how different he was. "I take it you wouldn't care to start over again. Not something you little freaks would care to hear, I'm sure."

"My chimeras aren't at risk at the moment." Dead and utter certainty laced the words. "But I really don't see how they are entering into the conversation just now." He shrugged, leaning back on his heels.

"Because they are something you stand to lose. Or do you not consider them something worth your credence any longer? After all, they are _your_ little pets." Kimblee's smile wasn't very pleasant nor was it meant to be.

Greed narrowed his eyes, flexing his again flesh hands around Kimblee's wrists. "They are mine, but they aren't at risk right now. I won't be losing everything again for a long time, if ever. I just know it may happen eventually."

_Oh your eventually is closer than you think asshole._ Kimblee thought ruthlessly to himself. He had noted the change of cold to warm at the base of his hands and was going to take advantage of that soon enough. But he found something that irked the sin and he was in a particularly foul mood, more so than before. Get what you give as the saying went. "And what makes you think they aren't? They're chimeras; not human and thus not subject to the same just treatment. They're at risk every time they leave this place. Don't think that the military isn't constantly searching for them just because you've gotten them secreted away. The ones that had us all locked away are still in power and _want_ us all to disappear. It may be convenient for them that none of those that escaped have resurfaced so actively, besides that freak lizard-man, but they'll never stop looking until we're all dead." The acid behind his words was punctuated by that unpleasant smile. "Even you aren't safe from that search. If I recall you were there as well. Not so safe to be _associated_ with you in the end."

Greed narrowed his eyes, his look very dark. "I was there before they decided to use it as a lab, and I'm not ignorant enough to think that they aren't looking for my people. But they are _my_ people, and I don't let anyone take what's mine away that easily."

"Maybe I should amend my perception of you. You _are_ a fool. Greedy bastard who thinks he can have it all. You know the price for your greed and yet you still choose to pursue it so flippantly. Not much of a conscience in a monster I suppose." It was so easy to find the root of the man and whittle away with truth and lie. Greed's foundation was his greed and apparently his vanity in thinking he could have it all. The man knew the consequences yet still tried to obtain everything. If Kimblee didn't want to rip his eyes out and use them as explosive to stuff down his throat... he might have respected him for it.

"Then I'm a fool. A greedy fool who knows exactly what he wants and doesn't let anything get in his way. You don't need a conscience to do that, you only need to have a good mind." He shrugged, tugging Kimblee's hands forward, keeping a careful hold. "How did your weapons get burned in?" He turned one palm up, studying it intently.

"That's for me to know and for you to languish about." He muttered coldly. It was something personal to himself that he didn't feel the need to share with the sin. The less he knew about him the better. It would make his life a hell of a lot easier just to give in and give Greed what he wanted from him but Kimblee wasn't a giving type of person. 

He considered the marks, thumb moving a little on that hand's wrist. "You see, I have this idea as to how, but I'm not sure I want to share." He tilted his head slightly.

The alchemist suddenly felt very uncomfortable being this close to the sin. It was easier to deal with Greed when there was something he could use against him. As the situation stood, he didn't have much else to use other than his still untapped lower half. Why hadn't he just struck out and solved this situation before now? _Because you enjoy causing another's anguish just a bit more than listening to your survival instincts_ Which, at the moment, was partly true. He gave nothing more than a blank glare. "Then keep it if it gets you _off_ me."

He shook his head, then quirked his lips, taking a deep breath as he considered the burns. "Just when did you have a stone Kimblee?" He moved his thumb down, tracing the edge of the mark.

Again, Kimblee fisted his hands, but this time in an effort to keep those oh so dangerous _fingers_ away from his precious palms. What right was it of Greed's to toy with his hard-earned scars and emotions? None what so ever. So why was he letting him? In truth, he wasn't letting any of this happen, he wasn't trying to get away. But yet he was still here and still being subjected to the man's curiosity, no matter how morbid or prying it was. It was a sensitive subject for him, but one that he wasn't ashamed of. No, he was quite proud of how he won those marks. His mouth was open before he could stop himself from speaking his thoughts, still angling to peeve the jerk just enough for him to do something stupid, like release his wrists. "What? Weren't around for the famed war I take it."

"No, I was in captivity long before that point. They had stones there? And the humans got to _keep_ it?" He shook his head a little in almost disbelief. "Amazing. But if it was a war I could see it. The chimeras have been very quiet about that."

"Oh yes, _them_. I should really thank them for their _help_ in starting the war. Quite the effective little assassination team." Of course, Kimblee didn't know all the details of what exactly happened nor all the participants in the _start_ of that little fiasco parading around as war. Those backwater worshippers of Ishbal were pathetically weak against the scale of the army. 

Greed frowned a little, then shook his head and smirked. "And what was your part in the war exactly? Has battle alchemy become that popular then?"

"What did you think alchemists were used for all this time?" He laughed humorously. "Not everyone is some stuffy scientist here to help and hinder with research on inane alchemic practices! It was war Greed. We were on the front lines taking care of the problem areas so the _soldiers_ could clean up the aftermath. As to my part in the war." He rolled his shoulders as if to shrug nonchalantly. "That's not hard to _guess_ , now is it."

"I only heard a few things from the people they pushed in on me those few times before. I haven't really heard the whole story about the war, and when I was put away, Alchemy was still mostly science. I have to say seeing battle alchemy is more than pleasing. More honest." He smirked and looked to the other hand.

"It takes a sin to see the truth that humans refuse." Kimblee reflected on that _truth_ in his eyes. Someone finally understood his sentiments on the subject of war and alchemy. Its purpose wasn't for idle science, it was for force. It was meant to be _used_ , not studied! For a non-human to see that was both ironic and disheartening to the human mind-focus in general. Then again, it was very probable that not everyone was as battle hungry as him, Kimblee.

He shrugged a little, peering up at Kimblee at that point as a little smirk came to his face. "It's not so hard to see the honesty in it. Alchemy is good and all, but most humans are too bloodthirsty, and it's pointless to hide it behind something like _study_."

"How unfortunate for you, then, not to be able to perform it. Now let me go Greed. This has gone on far too long." He again made a halfhearted attempt to free a wrist. He'd nearly given up on the venture when he found that the sin could reconstruct his body's makeup into something that felt like steel. If he stuck around he would have to test exactly _what_ that substance was... and how he could use it to his advantage. 

“Isn't it? I'll have to learn what developments about it I missed while I was locked away, after I catch up on everything else." He didn't let go, but he got a deviant light to his smirk and he leaned forward to nudge Kimblee's stomach. "You were enjoying yourself earlier, why the sudden change of heart?"

He instinctively recoiled from the contact with a slight hiss. He narrowed his eyes again, glaring hatefully. "Nothing sudden about it. I gave you what you wanted and I got something in return. You may not follow equivalent trade but that's how I've spent most of my life. I'm not receiving anything I _want_ in this exchange so why should I let it persist?"

"So enjoying what's going on isn't enough equality for your alchemist sense is it?" He slid to his knees, nuzzling the bloodied fabric over his stomach a bit in a nearly considering manner.

"Enjoyment is only half the payoff Greed." Never mind the fact that he had enjoyed their earlier kiss... hell was even enjoying, on some level, what was happening now. It played to his twisted sense of appeal. "You should know this by now. Or does greed compensate the other half for you?"

Greed rubbed his cheek against Kimblee’s stomach a moment longer, then peered up at him, looking predatory even though he was still covered in his own blood. "I don't need to have the other half compensated."

The action was causing some disturbing developments inside of the alchemist's body. The area receiving the attention, for instance, was doing its damnedest to convey its fluttering desire for the tickling sensation to continue, causing an inner conflict with Kimblee’s brain. His nerve endings were pulling double duty trying to sort through the mixed signals of both pleasure and unease. Unfortunately, the pleasure was winning out, much to the displeasure, or pleasure as it were, of the man experiencing the roller coaster ride first hand. Kimblee licked suddenly dry lips. "Then what do you need?"

"Need? Just to enjoy myself and have what I want. But what I want, well, that tends to give me it's own trouble." He leaned up on his knees, eyes still locked on him as he persistently played with his stomach.

"Would you stop doing that!" It was obviously getting to him and be damned if he didn't show it in the slight shudder that raced through his body. It didn't help matters that it was a particularly sensitive area for him and that bastard was _rubbing_ against it like some demented cat! "You're your own trouble. And believe me, that's a feat unto itself."

"Then I'll take it as the compliment I'm not sure you mean it to be." He repeated that nuzzling motion yet again, leaning up further as he watched him, a little smirk playing on his lips. Kimblee tried _so_ hard to pretend he wasn't being affected, didn't he?

"Take it how you like it but _stop_ doing that!" This time, Kimblee twisted his body to remove the pestering problem lingering over his stomach. He was going to kick Greed's face in if he didn't put a stop to this nonsense soon. He'd probably kick him in the face just to wipe that smirk off his face.

Greed lifted his head, tisking softly. He had blood smeared on his face that he'd gotten off Kimblee's clothes. "You make it seem like such a bother to just enjoy being touched. Is it that much of a taboo for you to enjoy attention?"

" _Yes_!" He growled out in frustration. It was a given that he just didn't _like_ being touched. Not that he had a problem with touch, more of a learned reaction. "I have qualms about being _touched_ especially when I'm not in any position to either help or hinder in return! Does that satisfy your curiosity now?”

Greed glanced to the hands he still held. "If I let go of these, will you use them on me?" He raised his gaze back to him and raised an eyebrow.

Well, that presented an interesting debate within himself. On one hand, he wanted to scream an affirmative and blast the bastard into as many tiny pieces as he could. Then on the other, he wasn't entirely sure if he would do just that... or if he'd drop them to his sides and wait. For what? Who knew. He looked a bit indecisive before he managed an answer. "I'm taking it if I said yes I wouldn't get my hands back, would I?"

"You might." He was thinking to let them go either way actually. If he moved carefully, then he'd get to play with Kimblee some more without worry about it. The smell of the blood was getting to him, so he wanted to _do_ something.

He didn't know what unnerved him more, the fact that Greed was blatantly playing with him, or the fact that he was semi-enjoying it. Perhaps it was because he was drawn to the aspect of not having a choice in the matter but still _having_ one. It made little sense to him, so he was sure it would make even less to the sin. Not that it mattered anyway. He wasn't as conceited to believe he could get out of this without something lost, nor did he want to. Equivalent exchange rears it's ugly head once again. "You like playing dangerously, I recall." It was a simple remark, but some hidden meaning was laced in the words. If he played it right then he could get away and lick his wounds without much effort. That is, if Greed would stop looking at him as if he were going to eat him.

Greed stroked Kimblee's wrist with his thumb. "So what should I expect when I let these go Kimblee? Are you going to try and blow me up again?"

The alchemist let his own smirk return, sliding onto his features like well worn mask. "Only one real way of finding that out Greed."

Greed slid his hands up Kimblee's forearms at that point, kneading as he eased off his grip enough that the alchemist could move. He was watching him carefully, eyes almost unnerving with intent as he leaned forward to nuzzle him again.

The shudder was more visible this time around. Kimblee closed his eyes against a curse he had to clamp his mouth closed to repress. He didn't think he was going to survive having to endure that type of annoyance much longer without something in himself giving. It was either to his rage or that niggling sensation that turned his knees to mush. Damn it, he thought he had a better control over himself than that. He was human but fuck if he didn't _try_ to keep those types of emotions locked away. He was above that. He was above everything except pain and destruction. "Damn you." Came out it a whisper, his eyes still clenched shut.

Greed nuzzled him once more, still watching, before he slid his hands off of Kimblee's arms entirely, moving them to rest on his hips, kneading a little as he lifted his head. "I was damned long ago."

He barely registered his arms were free before they went to brace against Greed's shoulders, pressing himself back further against the wall. It wasn't until after his fingers dug into muscles slightly that he realized he could move his arms again. The surprise was jarring in the fact that his first response wasn't to disincarnate the maggot but to get more comfortable. Something was wrong with this situation beyond the fact that they were both splattered in blood and not at each other's throats. "A... Are we even on the same page anymore Greed?"

Greed leaned into him, sliding his hands up along his sides then back down again, ruffling the material. "What page are you thinking we're on Kimblee?"

Kimblee's eyebrows furrowed, giving him an almost innocently cute confused expression. He banished it quickly with a shake of his head, his braid pulling painfully with each jerk. He leaned forward to get the hair out of the pinch, pressing himself into Greed. It didn't help matters that he was further on the sin when he angled his hand to move the braid. "I'm not even sure where this conversation went or is going." He added idly, still focused on his hair.

Greed leaned up, pulling his foot under himself so he could start back to his feet, nuzzling a line up his chest as he went. "The conversation itself seems to have a life of its own." He slid one hand forward a bit, stroking over his hipbone with his thumb.

"I suppose we should kill it swiftly and end this?" He asked curiously. His hand still grasped his braid as he looked down at Greed. He wasn't sure about that forward hand but he wasn't complaining about it, yet.

"Hmm, end it how exactly?" He ran his thumb back and forth as he let a slow grin cross his face. He leaned up high enough to nuzzle his chest.

Hell, it was his suggestion so why not run with it? Greed had set the stage long ago and he'd been steadfast in trying to get away from it. He wondered what would happen if he tipped the scales either way? As he told Greed before, only one way to find out. He dropped his braid in favor of reaching between the two of them, hands catching Greed’s upper arms in a secure grip for lack of material to grab. With a deliberate jerk he forced the sin upwards so he could capture those lips with his own.

He was caught a little off, and he had to quickly catch his balance, but he didn't hesitate before returning the kiss, deepening it with a growl as he slid his hand around to rub along Kimblee's stomach. Kimblee didn't pull back from those hungry lips as he sucked in a surprised breath. That _had_ to stop damn it! He quickly grabbed at Greed's hand to force it away from his stomach. That wasn't an area for petting hands to go, thank you very much. That reaction was what had Greed so determined to play there in the first place of course. Clearly sensitive as it was, he wanted more of a reaction like that from him. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, letting his eyes shut partially as he ran his hand down Kimblee's other side, running his fingers over his hip.

He shivered at the touch, the ghost of forgotten sensations coursing through his side. This was just supposed to be a surprise tactic to get Greed off of him long enough for him to retreat upstairs, but apparently even if that happened he doubted he would be left alone. Probably be more determined if anything. Kimblee found that he didn't mind the distraction, nor would have if his plan had worked. He didn't shy away from the touch this time, instead loosening his grip on the sin.

Greed pulled back off the kiss to nibble at his lip, running his tongue over the bite he'd left before, and his hand kneaded a bit. Then he rubbed against Kimblee with his body, settling himself against him as he slid his hand to the very base of his back. The alchemist took his time to part his lips just far enough for his tongue to wash over the abused area. If he tasted Greed along the way, it was of no consequence. He decided that he didn't mind the taste of the sin's blood mingled with his own.

The Sin fell into a purr, pleased by the participation, and he gently caught his tongue, flicking his own over it before releasing it to resume kissing him. He kneaded his hand at his lower back, his previously batted away hand drifting back to toy with Kimblee's stomach again.

His eyes squinted open in a warning glare. He already knocked the hand away once what more did he have to do to keep Greed's grubby claws away?! He growled lightly into the sin's mouth and pushed against his chest with his hand and added the weight of his shoulder. "No...t the ...stomach." He managed through the pressing of their mouths. He didn't do more than that though, he was getting used to not being minded.

"No?" He brushed the back of his hand up between them, moving his other hand to lightly grip his hip, curling his nails into the skin lightly through the cloth. He moved from his lips, nibbling at his neck as he dipped his head.

He was relieved when the hand moved, it gave him peace of mind... up until the nails dug into his skin. The cloth between them and his flesh wasn't much protection. His lips were free to cringe and keep back a hiss of pain that flared from the area. But the pain was cut by the light nips Greed was placing against his throat, almost causing him to groan aloud.

He nuzzled a little as he felt the almost sound, and he drifted his hand back to play with his belly, deeply intrigued by his reactions there. He caught his neck in a light bite that wasn't quite hard enough to break skin.

Kimblee's hand that had been caught between them pushed again at Greed's chest while his other grappled the offending appendage away from his stomach, yet again. This was getting repetitive. If he wasn't careful Greed would find out just why he never let anyone paw at him. That would earn the sin at least two more holes in his clothing and possibly his face. It was not an area to be messed with on the feared Crimson alchemist.

Greed laughed lowly, lifting his head as he tightened his hold on his hip, making his nails settle more firmly against him. "Why does that place bother you so badly?" Of everywhere, it was an odd place to defend so well. He dipped his head to catch his pulse in light teeth after asking.

He winced again and frowned through the pain. He wasn't about to tell the man he was quite ticklish and wanted _nothing_ to do with that aspect of his body. Laughing was not something he did. It wasn't part of who he was. Besides, he hadn't laughed carefree in years and he wasn't about to get a strangled one out under Greed's touch. He gripped harder against the hand in his grasp, ignoring the bite. "Because it does. Now leave it alone."

He released his pulse from his attention and sucked a little there before tisking softly. "I'll leave it for later then." He moved his hand away, turning his own to lightly scrape his nails over the array on Kimblee's palm, though not enough to even consider damaging it.

He was pushing his buttons one by one with the unwanted attention on certain areas of his body. His stomach was a sore area but even worse were his hands. Why the hell did Greed insist on flirting with disaster? Did he want to be used as a bomb once again? Kimblee smirked at the thought of the sick bastard getting off on that kind of perversion. He let the action go, this time. He ground his free palm over the exposed area of Greed's chest, digging his nails into the flesh hoping to divert the attention away from both areas.

Greed made a faint sound in his throat that couldn't be mistaken for a protest in a million years. Yes, he knew how to enjoy the little pains. After so long being confined, he'd seen the value in any and all physical experiences.

This time, Kimblee allowed himself a humored chuckle as he raked his nails into the skin again. So he guessed Greed was a bit of a masochist as well as a sadist. Though he wasn't sure on the latter considering he hadn't done much in the way of hurting him. Though those claws were gripping painfully in his side so maybe that counted. "You are a sick bastard... I can work with that."

"I thought we'd already established that particular fact." He cocked his head a little, feeling the sensation of skin quickly doing away with the tiny damage. He dipped his head to nibble at the under edge of his jaw, running his nails up the inside of the alchemist's wrist.

"So we did." He groaned against the rolling tickle going around his wrist. He tilted his head up to give the sin more area to explore, enjoying the sensation. It felt weird to have skin regrow underneath his fingertips, kind of like an alchemy transmutation. Except there was no light or trade between them, just the homunculus' strange makeup. Some small part of the alchemist wanted to study that makeup, find out what made the sin tick. To dig into that skin to see how long it took for everything to start stitching back together. But he'd had a show of that earlier when he tore Greed's throat out...it was fascinating.

Greed was more than happy to take advantage of the little assent, making a growling purr in the back of his throat as he bit again. The nails at his hip moved, pulling up and skimming under the edge of his shirt, sharp even while unchanged.

Kimblee arched as the pain flared again. That coupled with the gnawing was doing a number on his resolve, crumbling it to fine dust. It was the same perversion he held. With him it went either way. He enjoyed inflicting pain and in some small aspect really _enjoyed_ receiving it. His thoughts flickered briefly to an earlier event. Those delicious whimpers escaping a battered throat. Underneath him writhing, a broken little pony. It was enough to make him shiver in delight.

Greed wasn't sure what the man was thinking about, but he made a mental note to ask him later as he slid his hand up his side, under his shirt. He tilted his head, then bit down hard enough to draw blood, simply not being careful of his teeth this time. It was enough that Kimblee swore loud enough for his voice to echo faintly in the darkened room. He curled into the bite almost automatically, bringing his hand from Greed's chest to press behind his head, pulling him into the flesh. He felt warm fluid dribbling down the sides of the sin's mouth and guessed it was his own blood. He closed his eyes tightly against the assault but didn't move.

Greed let go with his teeth and lapped at the bite, collecting it on his tongue before too much of it could escape him. He was positively purring at this point, eyes having slid shut as he ran sharp nails up behind Kimblee's back to press him tight against his chest.

The alchemist's breath was getting more labored with each lap, drawing him deeper into the little place he swore he wouldn't go, not with Greed. Definitely not like this. But he was holding onto the sin, urging him to continue with each pant. He's almost growled a warning when those sharp nails inched their way up his back, sending his thoughts into a scatter, but the firm barricade of the sin's chest made it worth it since he could now angle better into the lapping tongue.

He could feel the Alchemist melting into the pain, and it made him extremely pleased. He sucked at the bite a little, pressing his nails into the skin between his shoulder blades as the other hand slid around to rest on his lower back, almost on his butt. Kimblee's arm slipped under Greed's to pull the sin closer and he gripped the edge of his shoulder blade tightly, almost digging his nails into the skin through his shirt just as he had done to him only moments ago. Give a little, gain a little, right? It seemed more right than anything at the moment, and all he wanted was the stinging in his neck to spread downwards to fan through his chest.

Greed shivered a fraction as Kimblee got a good hold, feeling one of the rather sensitive circles that he bore dug into, and he pressed the other man closer almost immediately with a low growl. He pulled off the bite and turned his head to kiss the man again, not even really pausing to wait for a reaction this time.

He opened his mouth automatically to suck on the sides of Greed's mouth as well as snaking his tongue over those sharp teeth. Grazing his tongue on the points, Kimblee groaned into his mouth openly. The sudden switch from inflicting pain to claiming his mouth wasn't objected upon, but the loss was mourned. He decided to give it back in turn for the absence of his own. He raked his nails down the sin's shoulder and mashed his teeth along his bottom lip.

Greed moved his shoulders a little in an almost ruffled motion, a subtle cue to quit as he pulled off the kiss. He licked his lips, looking at him through barely open eyes before dipping his head to lay another bite. He really didn’t want the alchemist to get ideas about those areas.

His breath hitched through a gasp when the teeth sank into his skin. He nearly fell into Greed from the intensity, but forced himself to remain strong. He found something interesting, something that actually bothered the sin. While the creature was worrying his neck, nearly making him whimper, he moved his other hand to the opposite shoulder to test the boundaries. One of his fingers dug into the shoulder. The immediate reaction was a growl. While not serious, there were just a few places he didn't like the alchemist messing with. He didn't like how he reacted when they were poked at. He rolled his shoulders a little and sucked at the fresh bite without removing his teeth.

Kimblee would have given anything to be able to laugh darkly, but when he tried all that came out was a strangled mix of moan and hiss. Damn that felt good. But if Greed thought that was going to get him to stop returning the _favor_ , he was dead wrong. If anything, it egged him on. There was nothing he liked better than to cause others discomfort. And Greed needed some discomfort. If he annoyed the man too much, retaliation was on the menu. 

He lifted his head, the hand at Kimblee's back finally bringing itself to attention as he dragged his nails down, fingers spread so that he dug in just missing his spine. He moved his other hand, insinuating it back in Kimblee's hair. The Alchemist immediately threw his head forward, closing his eyes tight to ward off the sparkling tears that sprang to his eyes. He panted just above Greed's shoulder as he tried to regain his composure, though it wasn't fast in coming. He needed another distraction, anything from the harsh wet feeling he felt along his back. That was going to leave marks and a nice ache in the morning, but for now, he relished it. His breathing wasn't going to be normal anytime soon, so he busied himself with sucking in shallow breaths of precious cold air.

Greed took advantage of that, giving the braid a tug as he slid that hand away, deciding he wanted more area to toy with, his fingers drifted quickly down to the fastenings on Kimblee's shirt, tugging at them with quick twists to undo them.

He was going to have a headache as well it seemed. What was the fascination with pulling his hair all of a sudden? He garbled another cry and made sure he kept his eyes glued shut. There was no way in hell he would let Greed know how this was affecting him. He would just have to grit and bear through the pain, and force himself not to let the wetness stinging his eyes slip past his eyelids. He bit down on his lower lip and leaned back to relieve some of the pressure on his head, thus exposing his neck and partially his chest. Greed slid his hand along the braid, keeping the tension as he undid the shirt, the hand at his back sliding around so he could push it off of him once the fastenings were dealt with. Then he dipped his head to nip at the newly exposed skin, seeking more of those lovely noises instead of the man’s sudden curiosity.

Kimblee leaned back against the wall, using Greed’s shoulders as leverage once again. He didn’t have to worry about squashing the clawed hand this time, not that he would have bothered the added pressure against the base of his spine. But he preferred where the sin's hands were at the moment. The damp muggy air of the basement met his skin, sending an involuntary shiver across his body. He couldn't move his head, so he kept leaning it leaning as far back as his neck would allow so the pain wasn't too great.

Greed nuzzled up the exposed line of his throat, lingering to lap at the bites he'd left before he reversed and started down again, dipping down to nip at one of his nipples experimentally. His eyes were half closed at that point as he listened intently, making sure he wasn’t off his guess.

Kimblee's breath caught in his throat and sent his eyes open in surprise. He knew it had been coming, but could never prepare himself for the contact, nor the burst of sensation. He would have cursed at Greed if he'd been able to. He closed his eyes again and tried to lean forward, but unfortunately he was stopped by the hand that held his hair firm. A low chuckle rewarded the aborted motion, and Greed repeated the action, grazing his teeth over skin as he sucked a little, eyes closed as he just listened to him. His free hand went to trace the edge of his pants as he toyed with the skin in his mouth.

Since his breakout he hadn't had much opportunity, nor desire, for this kind of interaction between two willing bodies. He didn't count Mustang since that was completely impromptu and the little pony had been _very_ unwilling. In that situation he had been the one to take what he wanted and give nothing in return, nor receive anything at that. But he doubted Flame would have returned anything _useful_ during their brief time together. Besides, those broken cries were more than enough to satisfy him. It was far different now, though. Greed was giving something and taking away at the same time. And it was all because he was letting him. He knew this and didn't try to change the matter. Kimblee hated to admit it to himself, but he was enjoying the attention.

Greed finally released his hair from his hand, tapping his nails over skin as he sucked at him, wanting the man to give him a few more of those little gasps. Or more, more would be wonderful. He moved his hand along the edge of the alchemist's pants and ran his thumb over the button fastening them. He definitely wanted to see everything else he wanted to touch.

Somehow, Kimblee found his voice between breaths and pulled his hands from the sin's back to press the hand on his pants away. It was garbled by the panting but firm, "Getting a little presumptuous, aren't you Greed?" Of course the bastard was, and the alchemist had a good suspicion that even if he didn't _let_ him be this forward, he wouldn't be given a chance to deny him again. But that was a gamble he was willing to take.

He lifted his head, smirking to Kimblee for a moment as his other hand hit pant level. "Maybe. Are you complaining?" He flexed his nails a little, tapping his hip with his nails through the material. Then he dipped his head to play with the other nipple.

He didn't react as he had before, more prepared for what Greed's tongue would do. But that didn't stop him from tensing under the soft laps and ushering a curse through clenched teeth. The jerk was going to tease him, in one form or another, during this whole exchange. "And if I d...o, what will that get me?"

"Maybe you'll just have to try it and see." He moved his head to the side a little and bit, just shy of breaking skin again, and he tugged lightly on the belt loop of Kimblee's pants.

"Then consider this a formal complaint asshole." He barked out as the bite fell against his skin. It didn't hurt like the one on his neck, but it was just as pleasing. He wanted more control because he feared losing it completely. He'd never been out of control, for the most part, in his life no matter how _insane_ he'd seemed during his tour with the military. Those swine couldn't appreciate the beauty of destruction but he did. And if he was labeled crazy for it, so be it.

"Why are you complaining though Kimblee?" Greed's voice was a low growl. He nuzzled, his other hand drifting to flick open the button before the alchemist could get between him and the buttons again.

"Because it pisses you off." He growled back, giving the sin his own brand of semi-passive defiance. "What the hell do you care? You aren't listening apparently." Again he made to push the hand away. It was a futile battle he knew he'd lose but it was aggravating Greed so it was enough to continue.

"But you haven't given me any _good_ reasons to listen Kimblee." Greed smirked widely, moving his lips back over the scattering of marks he'd left on the alchemist as he moved back to finish undoing the pants. 

He was finding it easier not to respond to those light touches of the other's lips or those sharp teeth that threatened to slice into his flesh. Given enough time, anyone could get used to anything and by now he was starting to get used to Greed's _foreplay_. As long as nothing changed he could withstand this and keep control of his body. Nothing betrayed nor given away under his caress, just stoic solidity. He didn't give up his efforts to stop Greed from getting his pants undone. The man was trying to get him undressed and weak and that wouldn't do.

"Kimblee, why do you insist on trying to ignore me?" He slid rather abruptly back to his knees, more determinably attacking his pants, gaze fixed on his task. It was now his goal to have this man under him, if only because he was so persistent to not _react._

He didn't know if it was the fact that Greed was on his knees before him, or the fact that he was free of those tempting nips that caused him to hold his breath a fraction. His eyes boiled with something other than anger, but he banished it behind a casual flick of his head. That helped give him his breath back as well as free up his thoughts enough for movement. He thought briefly about bringing his knee up into Greed's face, crushing the other man's nose. Though a good and just action, Kimblee knew the consequences of that already. He bent forward until his hair fell across his shoulder. "Because you're not doing anything interesting enough to keep my attention."

"Liar." Greed tipped his head back to smirk at him, then looked back to his hands, finally getting the material out of his way with a couple firm tugs. He didn't spare a moment before leaning to nibble on his hip, not going for the more obvious target.

Kimblee's hands flew to Greed's shoulder to brace himself. That bit of attention couldn't be ignored no matter how much control he had over himself at the time. That action was rewarded with a deep set groan flowing out of his partially opened mouth. "Bastard."

"Something else I'm certain had already been established." He held the opposite hip firmly while he dropped one hand to deal with the shoes that were very much in his way as yet.

He pushed his feet flat against the soles of his shoes, determined to cause as much delayed trouble as he could. He wasn't going to make it easy on Greed to get what he wanted no matter the payoff. "Established and needing to be said in constant reminder."

Greed noticed the motion quickly enough, but just undid the laces and loosened them seriously before skipping his hand over the bunched cloth to run his nails up the back of Kimblee's leg. "So that's what it was. Good of you to clarify."

Kimblee's leg twitched and shied away as much as possible from the clawed fingertips as possible. As much as he liked the sweet rush of pain he wasn't in any hurry to inflict it upon himself. He wanted control and pain equaled a slight loss of it. "Shut. Up. Greed."

"If you're going to be that way, then fine." He nuzzled the skin in the juncture of leg and groin, continuing to skim over his skin with his nails since he'd already seen how the man reacted to it.

"Will you fucking stop that?!" Breaking the bastard's nose was beginning to look like a good idea. He was halfway through the motion before he took a deep breath to calm himself. He replaced the leg and pushed forcefully against Greed's shoulders.

Greed rocked back on his heels a little, but didn't fall, instead just looking back up at him with a growing little smirk. "Stop what exactly Kimblee?" He moved his hand up quickly and ran the backs of his fingers over the alchemist's erection.

Damn it, he was trying _not_ to react to anything the sin was doing to him only to have his own body betray him. It wasn't a shock, more a blatant slap to his face. Bloody thing couldn't leave well enough alone... nor could Greed. His fingers tightened on Greed's shoulders, the palms very nearly activating against the muscles. He looked directly into those unnatural violet eyes and returned the smirk. His knee came up quickly and caught the man just under the chin, Kimblee's eyes laughing the entire time.

Greed let out a hiss of displeasure and caught himself quickly on one hand before shaking his head roughly. He tightened the hand that he'd had on Kimblee's hip roughly. "That wasn't much of an answer you know." He moved back off his hand quickly and jerked the feet out from under the man.

Blinding pain rocketed from the back of his head all the way to his tailbone as he first made contact with the wall, then as he slammed into the ground. All the air he had in him came rushing out of his lungs, leaving him wheezing for breath. Bright spots of light danced before his eyes, which he tried to blink away, but that only caused darker ones to take their place. He knew at least one knee was up because he could feel the bend and that one arm was aching from the impact. But from the jumble of his body's aches and pains he couldn't determine which was which. He slowly tried to prop himself up on his elbows, still panting for breath. His eyes narrowed on Greed's smirking face. "Fuck you."

Greed shoved the alchemist’s shoes and pants off before Kimblee recovered, then quickly leaned over the alchemist, noting that the man had once again bitten his lip on the way down. "Sounds like a good idea to me." Things had apparently gone from persuasion to force.

He may have been dazed and hurting but that didn't stop him from landing a hazily aimed first into Greed's jaw. It was only slightly off the mark, but satisfyingly enough caught just above where his knee impacted. "Not if I have anything to say about it." He growled in a raspy tone.

Greed caught at the hand that had just slugged him and pressed it into the ground, shaking his head. "You issued the invitation, I'm just going to go ahead and take you up on it." He dipped his head to kiss him again.

His already short breath was cut even shorter when those hungry lips pressed roughly against his battered ones. The small amount of air he got through his nose wasn't enough to fill his lungs properly making him a bit light headed in the process. His only free hand jumped to push against Greed's chest, ready to blow a hole in the man if need be.

He lifted his head quickly enough, violet eyes flashing a little as he nuzzled away from his lips. They both had blood all over them, him more than the alchemist, but he didn't really mind the addition at this point as it was more fitting. His hand started wandering.

Light crimson trailed down the side of his mouth as he turned his head sharply coughing against the sudden intact of much-needed air. For the moment he forgot about the array that cried against the sin's chest in favor of regaining his lost breath. He didn't really register the creeping of the man's other hand until it brushed against an earlier bite mark. He jerked on contact, turning his flaming eyes back to Greed, snarling.

Greed returned the look with a predatory smile, and he skimmed his hand down to toy with the claw marks that scored his hip, fingers tracing over it. "What, did you expect something?"

As soon as he felt the sting on his hip, his hand swept from Greed's chest to wrap around the man's wrist. He had to lean upwards, causing him to cough again, but that was alright since it was worth it to get to his goal. He managed a feeble laugh as he remarked, charging the smooth skin beneath his palm. "No, did you?"

"I always expect, Kimblee." He moved his other hand as he felt the activation against his skin, curling the erection that hadn't vanished in the alchemist's fall and squeezing a fraction.

_This is going to hurt_ was the only thought that went through Kimblee's mind before the mild explosion splattered warm blood and bits of muscle against his lower half and partially on his chest. He howled in agony as Greed's hand clenched painfully tight around his shaft during the explosion, sending more of those damned bright spot dancing across his vision. That hadn't been what he intended to happen, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

He eased off his grip as he felt his skin start to knit, gently petting the abused flesh in his fingers as he watched Kimblee closely, moving the healing hand to rest amid the blood as it fixed itself. He hadn’t wanted to do that, but Kimblee was the one that had up and turned everything aggressive on him.

The alchemist felt slightly numb, though the ache clearly bore through whatever blessed haze had fallen after the explosion. Most likely some form of nerve reaction to help the man recover from such a painful ordeal. He drew in unsteady breaths through his battered lips, keeping his eyes tightly shut. But even those heavily sealed lids couldn't keep back a few stray tears that slid down either side of this temples.

Greed petted the hand that was resting on Kimblee's chest as soon as it was whole again, smoothing through the blood in an almost affectionate way as he let the man have a chance to gain coherency. He couldn't let Kimblee keep hurting him, so he hoped the alchemist understood that he'd made a mistake this time.

"Th... that… errrrrrrr!" He tried to talk but his throat kept closing around his words. He took a few more gulping breaths before trying again, not bothering to open his eyes. "That wa...s unnecessary."

"Consider it your reward for using your alchemy on me without permission." Greed leaned up, brushing a kiss over the man's cheek before nuzzling at him. "And do try not to do it again."

Kimblee slid his eyes open just a fraction and snarled at Greed. Damn him for showing such casual affection as if it were nothing more than a love tap meant to be looked over. He wasn't his lover and sure as hell wasn't someone he even liked. He could shove it up his ass for all he cared. Thankfully he kept that retort to himself least Greed take that as another _invitation_. "Piss off, I'll do what I please."

"If you want more pain of that sort, it's your own prerogative, now isn't it?" He shook his head, a smirk crossing his face as he watched the alchemist. Then he leaned in to lap at a tear track. He was intensely interested in just screwing the man, but he wasn't sure it would wise to get him curious in his marks.

He glared a moment before he turned his head away from Greed's tongue. He'd known it had been a stupid idea the second he himself had been hurt by the explosion but that didn't mean he needed to be reminded of the folly. What was worse, Kimblee had a distinct feeling right before he'd pulled the necessary components from the sin's body to form the bomb that he was setting himself up for a bad fall. He could have kicked himself, but figured that the throbbing pain in his groin was punishment enough. "Why don't you go screw with one of your chimeras and leave me to wallow in my own stupidity then?" He knew the answer to that one already. Greed was toying with him and damn well enjoyed it.

"My chimeras are _tame_ Kimblee. You aren't and I'm enjoying that. Even if you do keep hurting me." He cast a bothered look at his twice-exploded wrist before shaking his head. "Would you have preferred I just rush through playing with you? Hmmm?"

"I preferred if you left me the fuck alone Greed!" He shot back angrily. He hadn't made an attempt to move from underneath the man, content to lay still and recover. But his wrist was starting to ache with the pressure so he tugged at it trying to release it from the tight grasp. 

Greed slid his fingers on the skin as he felt him pull, and he sighed out a breath. "I was going to _originally_ but I think I changed my mind somewhere along the way." He leaned back to lap a little of the blood off his stomach.

"Now who's the liar?" Kimblee asked while arching up in an attempt to sit up and away from the attention. It had turned from some idle flirting and heavy innuendo to something he didn't care for. He wondered if this was what the pony went through with him? Probably not since Crimson, unlike Flame, was turned on by the violence. So he was a twisted bastard himself, he'd lived with that for years. But in the face of someone stronger and more bloodthirsty than himself he couldn't help the shudder of unease.

"No lie. Then you decided to blow holes in me." He released his wrist, moving the hand back to Kimblee's body in light movements as he resumed licking the blood away, sliding lower on his body.

"Is so, stop trying to get out of it with more." He called back indignantly, probably sounding like a whiney bitch with that damned ragged voice coming from his lips. He knew even back before this whole thing degraded that if Greed had no intentions of leaving him in peace. One of his _oh-so-special_ rules had been broken after all and the sin thought he should repentant. 

"I won't bother to try to convince you. I've never been fond of saying something I don't _mean_. It's your own fault if you don’t believe it." He hit his low stomach, pausing to nibble a little before resuming his grooming.

"Why the hell should I believe anything that comes out of an inhuman mouth? Get the fuck off of me already, you're starting to bore me." In truth he was starting to make him feel vaguely uncomfortable. Those swipes of warm tongue were making him grow hard again and he just _knew_ this was the incentive Greed was looking for. The worst part was Kimblee was starting to want the offer to be taken up already.

"Just because I'm Greed doesn't mean I _lie_." He laughed lowly at the bad attempt at distraction and lapped lower yet, then he lingered, staying away from his earlier abused groin. Then, rather abruptly, he sat back to take in the full affect of what he was causing, giving the alchemist perhaps the first decent look at him since he’d taken his vest off. 

The alchemist nearly whimpered when the contact of Greed's tongue left his skin. Damn that had felt good and the bastard had stopped. He was sort of thankful for it though, no need to get more worked up over little things. He wasn't even sure why he was being aroused again after that devastatingly painful experience just moments before but one can't help what the body does or wants. It does it anyway. Something he had to live with now. He tilted his head to the side a bit more and watched in fascination as more pale cream skin was now visible with the slight distance. 

Greed's skin wasn't entirely clear though, blood aside, as a hint of crimson showed at his sides, curling back out of sight like the matching set at his shoulders. He let the man take a decent look before he twisted his body slightly, fully intent on getting his remaining clothes off. He had an amused quirk to his lips though. He knew what sound had been aborted.

Everything he'd previously thought or felt against Greed seemingly vanished in the wake of his curiosity. Now that he could see what had been getting those reactions… A slightly shaky hand reached towards the lined area at Greed's left side. On contact Kimblee's fingertips traced over the area. It did and did not feel strange under his touch. He couldn't explain it, nor thought that he wanted it explained. It was just further proof that Greed wasn't human.

He shivered a little with the unexpected tracing, idly remembering it was one of the obvious ones from that angle. "Find something of interest Kimblee?" He slid his hands back to his feet, undoing his boots so he could tug them off. He really didn't need to hurry if the Alchemist wasn't going to try and leave.

Crimson looked up rather uninterestedly before returning to focus to the being's side. He took his time in running his fingers over it again and again, it was something different and strange. Something that tugged at the studious side of his personality. "What is that?"

He twisted a little to tug the boot off, showing where the line went to at his shoulder that had a line over to his other shoulder via the spot on his spine, as well as ones that seem to streak around his sides to his lower back. "It's part of me, what else would it be?"

"How the hell should I know, Greed? Do I _look_ like I'm on intimate terms with one of your kind?!" As soon as it left his mouth he furrowed his brows, closing his eyes at the idiocy. As it was standing he _was_ on intimate terms with a homunculus, sort of. Greed was one and he was currently being seduced? ...groped? ...hell practically raped by one. How the fuck more intimate could you get with someone? None of that touchy feelly shit moronic love birds got into since it all came down to the physical in the end. But really, how was he supposed to know what _that_ was.

Greed seemed to note his thought process because he laughed lowly. Really, it was barely risen above his skin at all, only just enough to signal it wasn't a tattoo. "Well, you aren't? Then what exactly am I if not one of my own kind?" He twisted the other way, showing the mirror of the mark as he moved to get the other boot.

"Oh give me a fucking break, you bastard, I've known you a whole of _what_?! Not like I'd seen _that_ thing... those things before. If you're going to be a fucking sarcastic bitch then get the fuck _off_ me and let me go back to my room. You're really starting to get on my _fucking nerves_!" Yelling seemed to make his embarrassment ebb away. He thought about sliding himself upright and knocked the idiot on his backside just so he could go collect his pants and high tail it back to his little box. 

Greed turned and put his hand on Kimblee's stomach to keep him from getting up if he had such an intention. "I tend to keep them to myself, don't get so annoyed over it."

Kimblee wanted to reach up and blow a hole the size of Xing in the sin's chest, but his hand refused to obey the unconscious command to attack. He wasn't in a hurry to feel _that_ kind of pain again. It'd be his luck Greed would lay straight on top of him while he imploded from the inside out. It wouldn't do more than give him some deep bruising and possibly some cuts and scrapes from the jutting bones but he seriously didn't care to have that happen. His groin was still throbbing from the last attempt at being _smart_.

Greed leaned down briefly to lap at some of the blood that was on the man's chest, as he'd started about halfway down his torso instead of higher. Then he sat back again to start undoing his pants. "I've never quite been able to figure out what they are, better?" He decided to try to get the man back away from his annoyance.

The reality of just what was going to happen began to sink in as the alchemist watched those unblemished hands work at the latch on Greed's pants. So this is what it boiled down to, he was fucked either way. If he tried to get away like he'd been _wanting_ to do for however long they'd been down here then he was screwed, because Greed wouldn't let it just stand at that if he was anything like he was. And if he stayed here like he _wanted_ to then he was screwed literally. Get fucked or be fucked... a barrel of choices they were not. He didn't care either way, because in the end he was doomed to endure Greed. But with this aspect he could shut up and take it and enjoy the brief interaction. And he was going to make it as brief as possible just to piss him off.

Greed watched the alchemist think in quiet amusement, rolling back onto his heels as he tugged the material off of him, and when he moved back to his knees, he finished tugging them off his feet. He gave him a second to look before he leaned down to nuzzle the alchemist's revived erection with a little smirk, seeing just how tender he still was.

Kimblee let out a surprised groan of mingled pleasure and pain. That _hurt_... but in a good way. He ground his teeth against the continuing hissing grunts. Immediately his hands found the ground a good place to brace himself as he arched his back upwards against and into the prickling sensations. He couldn't even voice his subsiding anger nor form a coherent growl. 

A slow smirk came to his face in reaction, and he rested his hands on his hips. The blood had dried or been mostly cleaned up by this point, so he needed something else to use. Tempted as he was, he wasn't about to just tear into the man, knowing he wouldn't heal like he would. It gave him an interesting idea for later though.

He dropped back down onto the slightly warmed floor to relieve the pressure on his arms, thankful that Greed had stopped fondling his bruised, or at least it felt like it, cock. He could almost hear that smirk so he didn't need to look at the man's face to know it was there. The alchemist bet he thought it was funny. If he wasn't so sure Greed would kill him out right, he would have blow _his_ off just to show the sin how _funny_ it was. Damn prick... he was going to blow it off just for spite. But not right now, it'd be too tempting a way for him to _hurt himself_.

Greed wasn't going to just leave it alone however, having set on a course he decided he liked the idea of. He moved down to the earlier abused organ, below where it had to hurt, and licked all the way to his tip, hands keeping his hips nicely pinned.

Kimblee refused to writhe in pain but the pathetic murmurs of twisted curses rolling off his tongue was betraying the fact that it felt good but still the overlaying sensation was still pain. It was like that part of him could derive between the two very different emotions but refused to differentiate. So no matter the pleasure or the pain he would feel both... or it bloody well seemed like it. He wasn't sure he could take that right now.

A little purr was his reaction as he heard the nice noises he earned himself and he moved to the alchemist's tip, sucking for a moment on the oversensitive skin as he flicked his tongue along his slit.

That was a little too far and way too much for his frazzled nerves to process correctly. It sent a wave of tangled sensations tripping long the endings causing him to tilt his head back and actual moan. His own voice sounded strange to him, so loud in his ears. The slight rasp he caught at the end was attributed to the time his throat nearly caved in on itself when he choked on his words. He was sure he'd hear it again if he didn't clamp his teeth in his bottom lip.

Greed didn't stop with the sound, instead increasing his efforts for a moment before lifting his head a fraction, sliding his tongue along the under edge of his crown before backing down his erection again, deciding he wasn't feeling patient enough to bring the man off first. He knew he'd bathed that morning, so he wasn't feeling particularly disinclined from his path. Kimblee's fingers were making an attempt to dig into basement floor with the sense of smoldering magma Greed's tongue was leaving down his injured member. If he was able at the moment, he'd have decked the sin again. It was a pleasing agony but it was getting down right to the painful to endure. Lesson in stupidity indeed. 

The Homunculus finally backed off his erection and nuzzled a certainly less painful one, tongue flicking over his balls before sucking a little at the skin. Greed kneaded his hands down the alchemist's legs, spreading them and lightly scraping his nails along his inner thighs. The golden-eyed man let himself be positioned, almost craving for something more beyond the teasing of that damned mouth. He was going to be sore later, in more places than one, but right now he was nearly to the point of _asking_ Greed to get on with it. But he knew if he uttered one syllable of nicety then the bastard would try to elicit more from him. Basically he figured Greed would make him beg. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He do damn where near anything before he begged the homunculus for anything.

Greed could feel the near quiver under his hands by this point, and his little smirk was felt before he moved his mouth lower, sweeping his tongue over the area he wanted ready. He didn't want to tear him, because then he wouldn't get to play again for longer than he wanted. Well that answered the question of what the hell Greed was doing down there besides driving him mad. That was something he hadn't experienced in a great deal of years so he didn't feel quite right with the smaller, deeper moan that crept out between the others. He very nearly squirmed away from the wetness, almost.

Greed curled his hands, keeping him from moving away as he repeated the action, wanting him to make that little sound again. He hadn't really thought ahead far enough to consider he might get some nice reactions to this, and he quirked his lips before pressing his tongue more firmly, digging in his nails to make sure the alchemist didn't try to duck the touch.

Another breathy moan managed to slip past his lips making him jump, figuratively. He wanted to knock those sharp nails out of his skin but was to busy trying not to give Greed more reaction than was needed to get the job done. Bastard, god damn son of a bitch... he was doing it deliberately to make him call out. He vowed to get him back, that exploding crotch came to mind and nearly made him choke on a strangled chuckle. He didn’t let the sound escape though, sure Greed would stop and ask him what was so funny. Greed pressed in at that point, applying a little pressure on his hands to fold Kimblee just a bit further to make this easier for him to do. It was one of his better ideas for this little encounter, and though he heard the sound. When he stopped, it would be to screw him into the floor.

He felt the warmth move into his body as well as the tightened grip and he couldn't help but obey those hand's unspoken command. He shuddered and suppressed anything that was threatening to claw out of his throat. Greed purred lowly in the back of his throat, moving his tongue a bit as he mouthed the outer skin slightly, trying to get his saliva as deep in him as possible.

He was growing impatient and frustrated. This excruciating teasing had to _stop_. He was losing that precious grasp on himself that he desperately sought to keep away from Greed's grasp. It wasn't a rousing success but it was what he had left. If he gave in now then it would be like turning belly up for the bastard and there was one thing Kimblee was _not_. He wasn't anyone's fucking bitch. But damn it if he didn't writhe like one. 

While not fully aware of just what was going on in the man's head, he knew it was enough to give him some breathy little half sounds while he was distracted. He moved one hand from his leg and slid it down the outside of his leg to his butt, where he started to knead.

He knew he should relax and tried to force his body to obey, but it was too busy listening to the heated words of hate and rage boiling through his mind. His body knew this was something it wanted but the mind was telling it that it should keep Greed at bay. Damned time for his resolve to take effect but he was grateful for it. It gave him some shred of proof that he wasn't about to give in. Feeling the tension that had returned to the alchemist's body, the hand he still had available slid along the top of his left leg until he could reach his erection, playing his fingers lightly up the length as he continued to play with his tongue.

Again the painful pleasure rippled from his erection down into his body sending his mind reeling to process it. It made relaxing much easier because his body wasn't fighting with his mind any longer, it was too busy dealing with blazing nerves. Greed took advantage of that, pulling his tongue back so he could rewet his mouth before pushing it back, flexing as he tried to loosen him up a bit more. He didn't need to be fully done up to be safe to fuck, just enough to avoid damage.

He took the light reprieve, when Greed moved away, as a blessing since he could gasp for much needed air. His chest was beginning to ache with the need for breath and he couldn't get it fast enough. Things were beginning to get painful in his groin as well, more so than they already were. Something had better get done soon or he was going to screw the consequences and turn the fucker into a giant stain.

This time when he pulled away, it was to bring his hands back to Kimblee's legs, tugging him into a suitable position as he moved forward on his knees, flashing him a little smirk.

The one thought that flashed through his mind was _It's about fucking time_ but all that came from his lips was a relieved whimper. The constant warmth inside of his body made him ache for more and that tongue of Greed’s, no matter how talented, wasn't getting the job done. With his arms braced on the ground, he glared up into that smirking face and growled. Sounding as threatening as a fucking wet kitten. He hated the sin in that moment, and always would. 

Greed saw the potent venom in that look and smiled, positioning himself to slide into the man, though at first all he did was _tease_. Kimblee had made such a big deal out of making it clear he'd rather be elsewhere that he was suddenly in no rush to get started.

He was so close to screaming, not the kind the sin was hoping for either, that he could feel the burn creeping up the back of his throat. So close, all he needed to do was sit up and press. Then the shower of red would be all that was left and he could get the fuck off the floor. Of course he'd need another _long_ spray down to get all the debris off but he would live with that. He'd even take care of himself while washing the son of a bitch's blood off him. To Kimblee it was all a matter of which he wanted more. Greed fucking him and him fucking over Greed were walking a thin line that was starting to snap.

Greed noted there was no pissy reply this time, and he thrust all the way in, hands tight on his hips as he rolled against him. He dipped his head to nibble at one of his earlier bites. That murderous look meant that if he wanted his fun, he better not linger since the man had apparently slipped into what he’d dub ‘fight or fuck’.

Kimblee cried out into the heated air of the room. The decision made for him apparently, so he wouldn't be killing Greed yet. Let him finish the job then kill him sounded like a plan to him. He'd forgotten how good it felt to have someone hilt deep inside him and practically purred in remembrance. He may like to fuck but he also liked to be fucked. It was just natural to have it both ways. In that aspect he figured he was a bit like Greed, he was greedy for it all when it came to sex.

A pleased growl met the alchemist's voice, and he pulled back enough to thrust again, not bothering to be gentle, since he'd already found Kimblee liked pain. He didn't use as much of his strength as he could behind the action yet though, giving the man a moment to get used to him first.

He felt like he was being stretched in several different directions at once when Greed entered him again. It wasn't a completely pleasant feeling, like that in-between place of bliss and agony. He didn't like it very much but that was the price of being on bottom. He knew it would soon edge away into something deeper and more wrenching. "God damn it Greed!" He growled and used his hands to tug at the homunculus.

That seemed like enough of a cue to him, and he drove into him again, watching his face intently. "Hmmm, appealing to god now Kimblee?" It was a low growl, and he thrust his hips harder.

Crimson Alchemist, feared among men and women alike, reduced to a moaning heap of sweating human flesh. If it wasn't so serious Kimblee would have laughed and blown up the prick who even suggested it. But it was human nature to get lost in themselves during sex. Sex was about release of everything even one's state of self. This was about taking something though, this act right now. Greed wanted it and he was going to get it from the alchemist. Kimblee found he didn't really mind as long as that hard cock kept ramming into him just like that. His breath hitched around his words but he replied back, "Ther… e is n...o God."

He laughed a little, the sound drenched in desire. "Exactly." That said, he kissed him, putting his considerable practice into screwing the alchemist as well as he knew how.

A pressing of lips and tongues sent him moaning into the sin's mouth. A hand crept around Greed's neck to give something for Kimblee to grab out and try to elicit some force other than need out of himself. His other found it's way to the sin's shoulder, digging his nails in slightly at each thrust. The nails digging into his skin had the skin healing around them, and the point weren't pushed back on the healing, though Greed increased his thrusting to a rougher level with the bit of pain to his body array.

The familiar tensing in his stomach told him that he'd been teased far to long for this to be fully taken advantage of. Probably another of Greed's _happy_ little ideas. Funny how everything was Greed's fault throughout this entire encounter, and it should be. He sure as hell wasn't taking responsibility for how they ended up like this. He didn't want to think that this is what he wanted all along. Because that was dangerous and he had enough of that in his life already. He called out into that urgent mouth nearly slicing the side of his mouth on those razor teeth.

Greed broke the kiss at the tone of the man's voice, letting him draw whatever breath he needed as he focused his attention more fully on getting the man off. He'd take longer, having been largely ignored in comparison, but that didn't mean he'd _quit_ just when the alchemist was done.

Both hands slipped against sweaty shoulders bracing himself more firmly in place. As much as he may have hated it, his lying leg moved to wrap around Greed's thigh, urging him to go deeper. He was hitting him in the _right_ spot and knew that it wouldn't take much more to send him over the edge. He was going to need another shower anyway so he gave way to it, moaning out unashamed.

He didn't slow as the other man came, instead putting more force behind it to overstimulate the poor man. Seeing as he'd bruised the erection earlier, he wouldn’t be shocked if coming hurt either.

White-hot pain laced his vision as the orgasm spilled from his body. He didn't dare look because he was afraid he'd see his own blood slicing the white. Again he blamed Greed but knew it was his fault for his injury. His fault and he'd fucking live with the result. And said sin was still pounding into him trying to get his own out Kimblee's ass. It hurt like hell but he was still too busy riding the ecstasy of his own orgasm to really voice his opinion on the matter.

Greed watched him whereas the man wasn't willing to watch himself, and was even further turned on by the display. He knew it wouldn't exactly take him long to come, seeing as he hadn't wanted to unbalance his position with the chimeras and finding an acceptable bed partner had been rather difficult up to this.

His next few groans were drawn as he wore off the last of the endorphin rush. It had been something he didn't get from Flame and that bothered him. That shouldn't be right. The homunculus shouldn't be able to give him something that he couldn't take from a human! A sudden pitted rage clawed at his chest and made him numb against the man still slamming into him. 

Greed felt the change in a sudden replacement of the tension in the man's frame, but he ignored that for the moment to let himself come, dipping his head against bloodied skin with a low groan. He could try to figure out the man’s issue later, when he could think.

Only the sudden sense of flooding heat snapped Kimblee out of his semi-trance to absently acknowledge Greed's final stage. The rage was washed away by something else that disturbed him, a sense of smug pride. It was wrong to feel so _good_ about making the sin sound like that. Even more so for enjoying being able to do it. The alchemist shoved those feelings deep into his belly where the acid could eat away at the edges. After a long moment, enough time to let Greed get the last of himself off, his voice growled out. "Happy? Now get the fuck out of me so I can take a shower." Now whether he was going to be able to get back up the stairs was another matter he'd have to figure out later.

Greed ignored the order, because it couldn't be anything else, and laid out on top of him, shaking his head slightly. "Not until you tell me what you kept thinking about."

His skin was already flushed a slight reddish-pink from sex so he didn't think the slight rise of embarrassment… why the _hell_ was he embarrassed?… that crept up his neck would be questioned. "What the hell do you care what I was thinking about while you fucked me? You got what you wanted didn't you?"

"Well that means it obviously wasn't me, so what was it? You thought of something else at least three times." He leaned in to lick him once, bemused. "And I have the feeling they were related."

"Just means you’re a dead fuck. Get over it." He didn't care what he just shared with Greed, it didn't give the man right to know what he was thinking about. So what if the broken face of Roy Mustang clouded his thoughts during sex? It didn't mean anything. He was just remembering an excellent time... damn he wanted to see that face again. 

"I did die you know. Now, about that question. Just what were you thinking about? It must have been something pleasant." He pushed up on his hands, considering pulling out.

"Just a new toy I left broken in Central. Now. Get. Out." He mumbled everything but the last few words. Mustang was his alone to cherish not to be shared around. Greed was good, he'd give him that, but he couldn't compare to a broken pony. 

Greed pulled out, but didn't move away. He had very good hearing. "So you leave your toys just laying around? How irresponsible." He tisked quietly before he pulled away, sitting back on his heels.

Kimblee considered the ceiling. He couldn't very well see it through the darkness that now permeated the room, but he liked to think that it was ready to come down and smash the bastard between his legs to a bloody pulp. "Not irresponsible. I didn't intend to leave it there for long. Where the hell are my pants?"

Greed leaned back to collect the material, then offered it back to the man. "You'll have to tell me about it some time." He shook his head a little and moved back to get his own pants. "Good luck on fetching it before someone else takes it."

He sat up and slipped the cloth over his legs, easing his ass back into them carefully. He was sore now and knew it would get worse later on. He gave the retreating back a deadly glare. "Then that someone will have a very bad day when I go to collect what’s mine."

He looked back to him with a little smirk, unable to help feeling a little proud of the man. He'd always been fond of the possessive ones. "I'm sure. Just let me know before you decide to go, hmm?"

He was a bit stiff when he managed to crawl to his feet. He didn't want Greed to know just how unsteady his footing was. Damn, it'd been too long since he had this happen. Too long. Hmm, maybe he should be a tad grateful to the bastard. He got something out of it after all. He walked, slowly, to where his boots lay on the floor and bent with a wince to grab them up. "Whatever. Just don't get in my way when I do. I know how you _hate_ going boom." 

"I never said I hated it. I just don't like you doing it without _permission_." The words were almost a purr, and he watched Kimblee move around closely, not missing the unsteadiness of his steps. "And who said I'd get in the way? If there's nothing else going on I might offer to come along."

Kimblee shot him a glare that showed Greed just what he thought of that little idea. That was all he needed, Greed of all _things_ finding out about his little toy. The son of a bitch might want Flame all to himself and that was something he wasn't willing to share. "What makes you think you'd be welcomed along?"

Greed raised an eyebrow at him over the reaction and laughed lowly. "You are a wanted man, and if you want to get your toy, you'd need someone to make sure you could handle things while you retrieved it, won't you?"

"You seem to think I need help. I've been on the lamb for as long as you and your bunch have and I believe I was doing just fine." He slammed his feet into the boots quickly and straightened to give Greed a scathing glare. "One word about my clothes and that smirk will hit the floor after a _loud_ noise."

"I wasn't forgetting anything, but you were also by _yourself_ for all of that weren't you?" He moved over to Kimblee and flicked some stray strands of hair out of his face. "Besides, if you just left it laying around, who knows who could have picked it up while you were gone?"

He narrowed his eyes at the sin but let him remove the hair. "As I said, whoever has him will have a bad day when I get back." He didn't realize he'd replaced _it_ with _him_ and continued, "And yes, thank you, I was alone. I prefer it that way."

"But you have a toy you want to go get now. Must be something special for you to go to the trouble, hmm?" Greed smirked a little. "As to why I would want to go, since you didn't think to ask. Maybe I'd want to make sure _my_ investment stays in one piece."

He growled again, clearly not amused. "When did I become _your_ investment? Go, stay, I don't give a fuck, just _don’t_ get in my way."

"Really, you don't think the first bed partner worth anything that I acquired after this long would just be permitted to run off into a potentially very bad situation alone? No, I wouldn't hinder watching you at work."

"Greed, you're pathetic. Getting sentimental over a fuck on the floor of a god damned basement." Again it was wrong of him to feel _anything_ good about making the man happy. He didn't care! But there was a small pull at his ego again, the pride. He shoved it away once more and tried to cover his lapse. "Fine, but no touching Greed. I don't care how much you want it, _no_."

Greed considered him for a long moment then reached out to pet his hand along Kimblee's cheek as an amused little smile crossed his face. "Well, when you've gone as long as I have, the basement can seem pretty special." He shrugged a little. "I'll see why you felt the warning so important. I'll even try to keep my hands to myself."

"You touch without my _permission_ and your hands will be in a constant state of disrepair. You'll find that I'm _sentimental_ as well." He let the touch linger for a moment more before pulling roughly away from it and heading towards the stairs. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. Turning around, he padded over to where this all began and that little pile on the floor. He bent to swipe one up, tucking it into his pocket. When he seen Greed's eyes watching him through the dim light he tipped his hand to him in a mock salute. "A little reminder. I think I'll drop one off with Law...I'm sure he'll _appreciate_ it."

That was the point where Greed cursed his short lived memory in the face of seeing something he wanted. He didn't say anything though, instead watching Kimblee's not quite even stride as he walked off.


	9. Chapter 9

The week since Kimblee had come to the Devil’s Nest had become rather hectic. At first it had been the little things, like when Greed had taken to almost stalking the alchemist around the building, then it had grown to the point where every time the alchemist passed near the sin, he was touched, or petted, or otherwise fondled. That smirk never left his face when bothering the long-haired man, and he didn’t seem to see a problem with what he was doing. 

This was the cause for many of the broken items that seemed to be slowly multiplying as well, considering that Greed didn’t wait until they were in an area without breakables before approaching. The only thing that had survived all their encounters so far were his sunglasses, and when that familiar annoyed look crossed Kimblee’s face, he just smirked more widely.

Just like many other times the past week, the chimeras in the room were quick to vacate the area of the impending fight. Unlike the other times in the past week, Greed didn’t immediately advance. Instead, he was giving the alchemist a deeply considering look. 

It was all or nothing and he knew it. There was always something and it amounted to a lot of nothing. Things were tense and the unforgiving air of fierce hate lingered in the air everywhere he stalked these days. It was all the sin's fault, everything. The bastard just didn't know when to leave well enough alone and damn it, it was _well_ enough over and _done_ with. Why couldn't Greed get that through his thick skull? Did he have to blow it from his shoulders to get him to see the big picture and bloody well fuck off already. A lingering caress there, a pet there... it was all too much and it was pissing Kimblee off. With determination set firmly behind tarnished amber eyes Kimblee glared back at the near pensive stare he was receiving from his _host_. He could tell right away that this was going to result in another battle... one he intended to win.

Greed pushed away from the wall and sauntered closer, tilting his head a little as he peered back into that glare, an amused smile quirking his lips. "What's that look for? You'd think I'd taken advantage of you again with that."

Kimblee tensed at the sin's words. The fucking balls on that bastard. No one, no one, ever got away with something like that before and the alchemist sure as hell wasn't going to sit idly by and let it happen now. But he had to be careful. Very careful. He remembered all too well the bruises and sores scattered over his body from the last time he actively attacked Greed. True it had been the one time since every other time he decided to _fight back_ only resulted in a few _items_ beings charged and chunked at the louse's head. But this was too much. He straightened his back and intensified his glare. "You're treading on thin ice Greed. Back off."

He didn't stop walking though, that amused look not wavering. It was worse than his smirk, since it had the implication that he found something amusing about Kimblee's anger at him.

The alchemist was very near seething literally with each deliberate footfall towards him. It shouldn't have been this easy to get under his skin. He was supposed to be made of sterner stuff, the uncaring bastard that was cool as a cucumber even when blatantly murdering someone. He'd always stared into fear filled eyes and smiled at Death. But here was different. The eyes he stared in, or would have if those damned sunglasses weren't a constant feature buster, weren't human nor filled with the usual emotions Kimblee had often seen even some of his fellow soldiers issued towards him. He fucking hated it. Greed was a smug bastard that thought he was his pet to play with whenever he felt like it. _Tough rocks Greed. I'm nobody's fucking pet._ He growled to himself and almost rose to met the sin.

Greed finally came to a stop, leaning forward and planting his hands on the arms on either side of the alchemist, tipping his head down do he could peer over his glasses at the man as he leaned closer. "Was that all you had to say Kimblee?"

Anger flared briefly in his eyes before it suddenly extinguished and was replaced by molten ice. "Remove them before I do Greed." It was short, simple, and by the wave his eyes flashed in the light he was deadly serious.

Greed moved his hands to the wall to either side of the man with an almost indulgent look. "Better?" He didn't move away, caging the alchemist with his body. He knew he was taunting him, but he wanted to see what the man would do. He leaned closer.

It didn't take much, just a simple pull of his hands, to place his hands against the toned chest. Even less to call forth the needed elements in his perfect little bomb. Not too much and definitely not too little, he filled the area of his pressed palms with alchemic energy and smirked into Greed's inhuman eyes. "I am _not_ in the mood to deal with your shit tonight."

Greed leaned into his hands and his look slid over to predatory. "You may not be interested, but I certainly am." He dipped his head quickly, before the reaction was complete, and nipped his cheek.

To his credit, he didn't even flinch as sharp teeth connected. It did startle him enough to drop the beginnings of a very pretty _boom_. It only served to piss him off further. "You don't hear the word _no_ very often do you?" He asked before raising his foot just enough to nail the sin where it hurt.

He let out a hiss of breath, leaning more heavily on his hands as he curled up slightly. Not the method of attack he'd really been expecting. Sure, he'd been expecting his alchemist to attack him, but getting kneed in the groin hadn't been one of the methods.

Kimblee sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, a moment to watch the man writhe. Then he was ducking under the arms to get away. He may be headstrong and cocky but he wasn't dumb enough to wait for retaliation like some sheep. If the sin was going to do something stupid, pet, attack, hell even look at him funny, he was going to have some room to move. He didn't spare Greed a glance over his shoulder as he stalked to the door.

Greed recovered before the alchemist could leave the room and spun on his heel, pushing off his hands to follow after the man. The past few days, he'd let it go, but this time he was more than ready to piss his alchemist off.

By the fucking powers that be, Greed wanted it bad. Did the sin honestly harbor a death wish that seemed to only manifest itself when he was around? More than likely Greed got his jollies by pissing him off. He was quite effective, to say the least. With a shuddered call for calm within his head, Kimblee rolled his shoulders and turned to meet the sin head on. He dropped his arms and shifted his feet further apart to give him leverage should he need it. He wasn't going to take chances. "You dead set on losing another body part that bad?" It was a low growl, glare never faltering.

Greed didn't stop, moving quickly into the alchemist's personal space, hands darting to grab, though he made sure it wouldn’t be an overly secure hold, not that he thought Kimblee would pay that notice. "I'm dead set on something for certain. What's the good of having a bed partner if they're never _in_ it?"

"Go fuck one of your little freaks." Was his only reply before spinning on his heels, ducking under the outstretched arms. With precise movements, Kimblee crouched low enough so he could vault his hands from the floor and send a boot just under Greed's jaw. There wasn't as much power as he would have liked behind the move but it was meant more to daze than to hurt.

He hissed out a soft breath, but he didn't let it phase him too much, instead quickly moving his hands to grab the kicking foot and yanking, entirely set on killing the man's balance. Just to make sure that the action wouldn't be wasted, he swept with one of his feet.

The foot caught him off guard, twisting his body on his hands in a painful over-extension of his muscles. He groaned heavily as his body connected with the floor. He was thankful his breath hadn't been driven from his lungs since he needed the time to gather his scattered thoughts. Greed still held his one foot and his other was nearly useless through the pain pinching his back and side. It wasn't going to stop him from trying.

Greed gave a little jerk on the man's leg as he moved forward quickly, down to Kimblee's level while he still had the advantage. Before the alchemist could get going, he pushed his hands down on his shoulders with a slam and crushed a kiss against his lips.

Pure instinct took over as his hands swept upwards and wrapped around his attacker's wrists. He didn't bother waiting to properly grab a hold of the necessary molecules needed to make a bomb, all he needed was the right mix and hopefully the painful pulling sensation would get those damned clawed hands off of him. He did his level best to turn his face away, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction of his lips.

Greed made a pained sound in the back of his throat but didn't move, instead pressing the man tighter to the floor as a determined smirk crossed his face. He went for the neck and bit instead.

A surprised groan born of pain and adrenaline tore from his throat, strangled slightly by the presence of Greed's mouth. He spat out a curse when he found that he couldn't get any leverage. So the burn tactic wasn't going to work for him this time, so be it. He'd just complete the reaction and deal with a handless bastard.

Greed lapped at the bite a little, pressing his body tightly against the alchemist's. He already knew the man wouldn't give him long to work, so he braced himself for the pain he knew was going to come. He was counting on it. Kimblee tightened his grip on the slender wrists and continued the process, nearly laughing in satisfaction when he noted the definite change. He braced himself for the pain he knew would flare against his shoulders. Greed was just that type too, to use his own weapon against him as he did before. 

An involuntary shudder ran through Greed's body as he waited for the blasts. He pressed his hands tightly between them, shaking his head in a sharp motion so that his glasses went skittering away from them a moment before the blast. It was painful for them both, but Greed lifted his weight a little with a low hiss of pain. Kimblee's breath caught deep within his chest, painfully so. He couldn't move without the pain lacing throughout his body. It fucking hurt and he knew it was going to happen... that's what made it worse. He took the chance as best he could to squirm at least some leverage. Greed was off just enough that if he rolled to either side he might could gain purchase against the floor so he could kick the bastard in the face.

Greed pushed up on the tender skin of his new hands, eyes slit because damaging his ouroboros always hurt more than the rest, and he stared down at the alchemist. After a moment he leaned down, catching his lips in a kiss before he could escape this time, even as he didn't fix his balance.

The alchemist growled onto his lips and balled his hands into tight fists. Swift and slightly off-kilter in aiming, he slammed one of his fists into the side of Greed's face sending a small cry of pain ushering over a newly cut lower lip. Apparently he'd forgotten how sharp those damned jagged ivories were since it didn't occur to him that they would present a problem. Quickly, not to give the sin a chance to do anything further, he pushed hard against the man's chest trying to sit up and push himself from under the weight that still held him.

He lifted his head again with the hit, getting rolled under the alchemist as he tightly fisted his newly reformed hands in the bloody material, keeping the man with him. "Goin somewhere?" It was a husky murmur and he licked his lips.

"Your power of perception amazes me Greed." He answered tersely, trying desperately to control his pained breathing. A steady hand went to curl around the new wrist, intent on a repeat even though he knew the pain that would come with it. "You've been trying my non-existent patience since day one. At this rate you won't have to worry about keeping your pets or this place much longer."

Greed squirmed a little under him, hooking a leg around him with a smirk to keep him from getting up. "You know you enjoyed yourself the first time, why avoid me?" Sliding one hand up quickly he grabbed the braid and jerked him down to he could kiss him again.

New pain flared to life when his hair was roughly yanked. Teeth met flesh in a rough kiss, making the alchemist almost bite back in response. Instead, nails dug into the side of the sin's neck, raking downwards. He didn't want to read any truth into Greed's words because giving the truth voice would only make him give into the sin.

Greed broke off the kiss with a little groan, keeping his tight grip on the man as he lapped at the blood on his lips, eyes half closed against the sensation of new skin forming. He tightened the leg he had hooked around the man's legs as a precaution.

He knew it was futile to struggle but everything was worth a shot now and again even if he knew the outcome. He pushed against Greed's chest but only managed to prop himself up. Kimblee glared down into the sin's face with obvious annoyance and anger, "Fucking brilliant, bastard. Get your damned leg off of me so I can get up. Otherwise I'm not going to be so _nice_."

"Nice? Is that what you've been doing?" He arched an eyebrow back at the alchemist, a smirk on his face as he tightened his grip on the man's hair, obviously having no intentions of releasing him anytime soon. "I'm not letting you go until I get what I want."

A wince and a scowl, that seemed to be the order of the day when dealing with a fucking sadistic prick. Normally he would have laughed and dealt with this problem with little more than a twitch of his hands, but with Greed everything came with a price. One he was hesitant to pay. He didn't care much for the situation but he couldn't help think it was a bit provocative. "You want everything asshole, so I could be here for awhile. Let. Go."

"I'll rephrase that then." Keeping his grip on the man's hair, he twisted his fingers into the burnt cloth of his shirt, using his nails to make it rip. "You're not going anywhere until I get what I want _from you_."

"I am not some toy you can pick up and play with whenever the mood strikes you, neither am I one of your loyal little chimeras." He spat out the last word with venom to rival the deadliest snake. He tried to turn his head to relieve some of the pressure but only ended up making him regret that decision when he inadvertently pulled against one of Greed's fingers.

"I know that. You think I hadn't noticed?" He moved his fingers a little, then dragged them through his hair, destroying his hair tie even as he dealt with his shirt. "It's one of the things that makes you so interesting."

It was definitely something about the way Greed smirked at him like he knew something or was making fun of him _constantly_. It irked him to no end. How he wanted to blow that expression from the sin's face permanently, but Kimblee knew it wouldn't last long. Greed would always come back, would always be there with that damned smirk. He just had to wait patiently for the right opportunity to come along so he could kill the bastard permanently. But... did he really want to? With a growl he shook off Greed's hand in his hair and glared down. "What's it going to take for you to get it through your fucking skull that I don't give a _fuck_ what you want or care for? I'm not it and don't plan on being."

Greed moved the hand that had been in his hair down, tugging on the back of his neck to drag him down again as he firmed the grip he had with his leg. He had the shirt almost completely out of the way now, and he pressed his nails along his side.

It's not as if he really expected Greed to heed his warnings but it would have been nice to know he'd been at least heard. Steadfast, the sin was in ignoring him. The alchemist didn't like where this was heading, it was too much like the last time where he had no control over anything. Just like the bastard to be after that again. Of course, Kimblee knew he would be. Greed was greedy for more of everything. This wasn't something he was going to let him have like he did last time. He might have enjoyed himself on some level but he sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen again without one hell of a fight. He took his hands and began the same reaction on Greed's shoulders, just at the tip of the nerve joining. Once the hands were useless then it would be easier to get off the ground. All he'd have to do next was get the leg off his own.

Greed gasped in pain as the reaction set off, having ignored it as he had the first, but this time it was in a place that was hindering his position. He quickly tightened his leg, moving the other over the alchemist's ankles as his grip went slack. He willed himself to recover quickly.

As soon as Greed's arm fell away Zolf tried to lift his own body off the sin's chest. He didn't get very far because he wasn't able to brace his weight with his legs. The end result was him unceremoniously dropping back onto the sin's chest. This was getting pointless, he needed to get the legs off of him. Though try as he might to dislodge the clamped appendages off of him... it wasn't working. He inched his way up as best he could to peer down, hatefully, into Greed's purple eyes. "This isn't going to end well."

Greed twitched his fingers a little, but he couldn't move his hands yet. Fine damage always seemed to take longer. It was horribly annoying. "No? And just how will it end then?" Greed moved his body a little, rubbing up against the alchemist with a smirk.

"Bloody." He had no real emotion behind his voice but pure demented determination flashing in his eyes. He drew his hands up to wrap lightly around the pale cream neck, a smirk cresting his lips. "I wonder what would happen if your head were to come off. How long would it take you to regenerate that?" He was more wondering if the sudden loss of the creature's head would make the limbs go limp. Freedom would come that way.

Greed smirked in the grip, finally regaining enough movement of his hands to slide them up along the Alchemist's sides. "Want to escape that badly do you?" His tone almost implied that the man was afraid of him.

Kimblee tried to hide the shudder that ran the length of his spine when those pointed fingers danced along his sides. He wasn't terribly ticklish and the movements were too slow to really tickle in the first place, so why the hell did he shiver? Damn. He needed to get on his feet and away from that cocky smirk. Hell, he just needed to get away period. "Gee, what gave you _that_ idea?!"

Greed slid his hands to the Alchemist's back, though the tightening on his neck made his breath stutter nearly to a stop. "You seem a little desperate." It was quiet, but he was still smirking, and he rubbed his body up against him again.

"I wouldn't call it desperate. I like to think it's more educational. It is quite fascinating to watch you heal from even the deepest of wounds. I'm merely curious. _And I want you to fucking leave me alone!_ " He yelled the last part just barely inches away from Greed's face while tightening his hands. He still hadn't begun pulling the needed materials from the sin's skin... he didn't know why but for some reason he couldn't. Not yet anyway.

Breath growing a little short, Greed moved one hand up to tangle in the alchemist's loose hair. "But I don't want to." His other hand slid down, pushing on the man's lower back as he ground his body up against him.

Kimblee grimaced at the contact, not because it was annoying but because it was starting to act against him. He had to admit that Greed was good looking and getting fucked by him was good but damn it the sin was getting on his nerves just by looking at him. But that wasn't helping him in his current situation. He could blow the head off and take his chances when Greed regenerated or he could give him what he wanted and be done with it for a least another small stretch of time. Probably long enough for him to get _rid_ of the little bar and all its inhabitants. That brought a smile to his face. "I believe I said I didn't care what you wanted." 

Greed felt his smirk grow, and he half closed his eyes. He didn't need to breathe in the conventional sense, but he could still feel pain, and he could get lightheaded. He tightened his hands in his hair and against the base of his spine. He didn't bother to try to make the man let off his grip as he slid his hand to pull at the man's pants.

If he were honest with himself, the alchemist would have liked nothing more than to indulge Greed at the moment. Their proximity and activity did more than raise his blood pressure. The fingers loosened around the neck, just enough to give extra blood flow going to the sin's brain. Maybe he'd choke the life out of him time and again and soon the sin would get tired of this game. Doubted, but highly amusing to try. He turned to his side the best that he could to try and dissuade the roaming hand. 

Instead of being discouraged by the actions, his fingers slid down and to the side, undoing buttons quickly on the man's pants. "Hm, better." It was a tad husky, and Greed half closed his eyes for a second before opening them again.

Kimblee tilted his head only enough to find the range he could get with Greed's hand in his hair. Not very far either way, he judged. Pointless came to mind again as he turned his attention back to said man's face. His eyes narrowed, "I hate you." With that said he leaned upwards and covered the sin's mouth with his own for a fierce kiss full of teeth and rage. Greed returned the kiss eagerly, nipping and sucking at his lower lip as he groaned in the back of his throat, squirming. He quickly got Kimblee's pants undone. 

Kimblee didn't know what aggravated him more, the impromptu kiss or the audacity of that roaming hand. Apparently both were high on his list but neither took precedence over one another. Strange mix those two had on him as well. It wasn't like before where it was all a blur of angered lust and harsh acceptance. Now it was burning need as the rage-filled emotions surged through his body. He ground his bared teeth against yielding lips until he could taste blood, it didn't matter whose. It was a good thing he enjoyed the taste since he knew there would be more before this was through.

Pants dealt with, Greed started pushing at them, determined to get the last of the alchemist's clothes off of him as quickly as possible. His other hand tightened in the long-haired man's hair and he tugged, yanking him back so that he could lap at the blood he'd dragged to his lips.

The small groan of pain caused him to seethe even further. Not that he was a stranger to pain, but the use of it now when he was the one wanting to cause it left something of a bad taste in his mouth that the metallic sweetness coating his tongue wouldn't cover. Kimblee managed to push himself up just enough to send a hand darting into his own hair to grasp at the sin’s. He didn't give it a second thought before the warmth of alchemy spread beneath his palm and into Greed's skin. "Not this time Greed. You wanted something so bad it made your teeth ache. Well, I did warn you, didn't I." The alchemist's voice was steady, and for the most part, flat with non-emotion. His eyes told another story, clearly written behind the irises was the madness he'd been branded with.

Greed's fingers let go in a little jerk as the nerves in his hands were scorched, and he hissed out a breath against the aggressive motion. "And just what was I supposed to be watching out for, hm?" He didn't try to free his hand from the grip, seemingly unworried. He felt that retaliation was the only true repayment this time however. He leaned up and to the side to dig his teeth sharply into the human's exposed shoulder.

Kimblee's head fell forward in a pained howl, his fingers digging into both the sin's chest, where it was anchored, and into the giving flesh of the man's hand. He should have really expected that, should have seen it coming and prevented such an obvious attack. But as they say about 20/20, it was only clear after the fact. Slightly marred nails dug further beneath the bloodied skin as he pulled Greed's hand from his hair. The sharp pain of the hair being ripped from the roots was inconsequential, Zolf merely grinned against it. He lifted his head, turning towards Greed's exposed ear breathing a silent laugh against the lobe. "Everything." The explosion was muted as the blood and muscle squelched against his palm. He never would get tired of the rush he felt, nor would he forget the new emotion laced between the alchemic highs. Desire wasn't foreign to him, but this type was disturbing.

Greed's remaining hand tightened, and his nails dug sharply into the alchemist's lower back as a flinch off the pain rippled over him. He shuddered a little, easing off the bite, licking at the blood as his eyes slid sideways to Kimblee's face. "Maybe."

He turned unconcerned eyes towards the sticky mess of tendon and meat falling between his fingers. It was just another piece that would grow back, regenerate just like new. The alchemist flicked the mass to the ground beside them, splattering them both with a fine spray of cooling crimson. "There isn't a maybe about it _sin_." A slight infliction of amusement crept into his voice while he brought the stained hand fast and hard against Greed's face.

Greed's head snapped to the side with the blow, but a wicked grin streaked over his face almost immediately after. He put his hand to the ground and shoved, fully intending on getting back the advantage here. "So I am."

After being in this position for so long, it wasn't hard to move with the sin's upheaval. Their close proximity didn't allow for much movement other than up or over and Kimblee wasn't planning on being pinned again. He growled against the shift and slipped his hand to attack the bastard's propped one. He wasn't going to make this easy, if Greed wanted something from him then he would have to work for it. 

The abrupt yank on his hand landed him on his back again, but he just smirked, licking blood off the corner of his lip. A moment later he unhooked the leg from over Kimblee's ankles and put it on the ground to resume motion. With the pressure off his ankles, though, Kimblee made the most of it and braced his boot tips against the floor, pressing himself more fully into the sin underneath him. He refused to call Greed trapped since he was essentially the one caught. His hands found a place beside that smirking face, close enough to grab and take off at a moment's notice. His plans held something similar in mind anyway, but for now he would roll with what he had. "You're starting to bore me Greed."

Greed rolled his hips up against the alchemist with a challenging glint in his eyes before he shoved on his foot, rolling the alchemist back under him and quickly planting his knee next to his hip. "But you aren't boring _me_."

Zolf roared in frustrated anger and lashed out with both hands, attaching them firmly around Greed's neck. It didn't help matters that the small inkling of clouded desire that flooded through his system was rapidly growing at a very unhealthy rate. He would be lying if he didn't feel even a small portion of fear. "I'm surprised, your tastes run so quickly from one thing to another I'm surprised you can keep anything for long."

Greed let his expression turn to one of lazy desire, and he leaned into his hands, as though the action was exactly as he'd expected. "That's where you're wrong Kimblee. They don't change, they _grow_."

Smug. He definitely hated smugness on anyone other than himself, especially when it was directed at him. Greed didn't know when to quit it appeared so apparently he was going to have show him it was a dangerous aspect to explore about this particular alchemist. Slowly the alchemy crept from his arrays, reaching deep beneath the surface. He pushed the effect as fast as he could because the longer Greed lorded over him the harder it would be to hold his temper. If he lost that then all hell would break loose. Then again maybe that was what was needed.

Greed hissed out a breath as he felt the reaction ignite, eyes narrowing as he felt the burn. The little shit... This was going to be messy and painful. He tightened his grip on the man quickly, bracing himself with a fierce smirk. If he pushed enough... well, they weren't there yet.

He waited for the deafening pop and splattering of warm fluids to rain down against his face. He relished in the extra weight that fell against his chest, knowing that the man was dead and yielding to him in this state. But it wouldn't last long, Greed would regenerate his head in the matter of moments... well Kimblee didn't know exactly how long he had though he figured not long. He put all the force he could muster in pushing the dead weight off him to the side, sliding over atop him as he did so. The leg was still tightly bound to him so he took a moment to disentangle the limb from his own, spreading the dead man's out beneath him as he straddled Greed's hips. The gore dripped off his face and slipped down his chest making him look like a victim of a bomb himself. Of course, if looked upon by anyone else they could see that he wasn't affected in the least by the creeping smile and parting of once frowning lips to let a reddened tongue slip over his stained smile.

It wasn't slow, by the way these things went, but it wasn't as fast as the others either. Layer after layer reformed, breath hitching back into his lungs as his muddled thoughts tried to find coherency again. He didn't try to move yet, and he tried to set aside the confusion of being flat on the floor again. Bone was slowly covered by creeping muscle. Nerves sprouted along the vessels as they regenerated within the smiling skull, eyes sightlessly glaring from their sockets. Kimblee was held in rapt fascination as he watched the sin slowly come back to life. He didn't think he would be so dispassionate about something so grand, but as he sat atop the man's lap he found that he was. He didn't care about the way Greed pulled himself back together, nor the fact that it didn't take much to stop him in his tracks. No, what he cared about was the feel of the warm blood slowly cooling on his skin and the faint traces he was eyeing along an inviting neck. 

The sin's eyes finally focused back on the alchemist, vivid violet gaze glazed over from the lingering ache that always came from being damaged like that. He slid his hands a little orienting himself even as he started to move.

On reflex, he sped to pin the sin's wrists beneath his weight, causing him to place his knees on either side of Greed's hips. He leaned forward until the dripping from his face splashed down onto the sin's, smiling rather mutedly. He wanted those eyes watching him, seeing that it was him that had managed to catch him off guard. And if not off guard, then at least let Greed know he now had a way of taking care of him. Might not last for long, but Kimblee had all the time in the world to blow the sin up. "Not as long as I hoped, Greed, but long enough."

Still slightly dazed eyes watched the alchemist, tongue flicking out almost in automatic reaction as he felt the warmth slide over his face. "How long did you expect?" He made a little sound in his throat and pressed up against the man straddling him. 

"I'd have preferred if you stayed dead, that long enough for you?" He remarked casually, staring into the still clouded purple slits the sin called eyes. His slightly mussed and bloodied hair fell over his shoulders, pooling around his face and clinging to his neck as he moved to just above Greed's mouth. He was more than amused to watch flecks of brain matter and the like drip from his chin and hair and splatter across the newly reformed face. 

Clarity snapped back to his eyes as the long bloody strands touched him, and Greed quirked his lips faintly with an undefined expression. "I won't stay dead though." He moved his hands, pulling them down and dragging Kimblee's grip with them.

He had to be quick to keep his balance, dragging a knee upwards to make sure he didn't fall forward with the shift in weight. That put his face neatly against the sin's cheek, mingling the fresh drops with their mates on Kimblee. The alchemist shifted again to sit up and away, a look of pure disgust resting firmly on his features. "We'd see about that. I'm sure after enough time, even you would have trouble coming back."

Greed jerked his hands out from under the convicts and ran his gaze down, having dealt with the man's clothes earlier, and it appeared the time hadn't been taken to get them back on. "Maybe, anything's possible." He lifted his hand, running fingers down the gore-soaked black.

"Why do you waste my time Greed? What do you hope to accomplish?" He growled into the sin's face. "You're getting nowhere as it is and constantly losing ground each time you piss me off. I'm not one of your freaks that fawn over ever fucking little word that pours from your lips. Give up while you still have body parts and make this easier on us both."

"Hmmm, no." Greed leaned up, running his tongue over his jaw as he slid his hands around the man's torso, tugging him down against him. Maybe at some point he wouldn't want to brawl for sex, but at the moment it was still perfectly acceptable.

He didn't pull away like he should have nor did he fight the downward pull. He just went with the movement as if he didn't care anymore. But truth be told he was silently seething at Greed for constantly ignoring his threats. The sin didn't fear anything so why did he expect him to be wary of him? It was like a constant slap in the face that only served to fuel his rage more. One day he would wipe that superior look from his face and show him that he wasn't to be taken lightly. He thought about sending the new head rolling just like the last one and leaving the wretched form laying in a pool of its own blood while he retrieved his clothing and stalked off to his room. Greed would find him there of course but he did need a new shirt.

Greed didn't really give him a chance of putting the thoughts to action, instead tilting his head so he could drag his alchemist into a rough kiss, growling lowly in the back of his throat. Even being dead hadn't killed his arousal for the moment it seemed, in fact, he seemed almost more determined than before.

The taste of blood was stronger this time around thanks to the most of it being Greed's. Heavier on his tongue and tasted just as sweet. It sent a shock through his system signaling that same disturbance to surge tenfold forward. Damn them both; Greed for causing his pulse to race and body to respond to the roughness, and damn himself for letting it happen. He could have been done with this and left the bastard cold on the floor but he let his fascination rule him and essentially trap him in the same situation. He would be ashamed of himself if he knew what shame truly was. He didn't have certain unnecessary emotions like shame, regret, and humility. Those were for the weak and simple-minded, and Kimblee was none of those. His tongue slid forward of its own volition and sought entry amongst the razor sharp teeth and warmth, he wanted to taste Greed's blood from the bastard's own tongue.

Greed smoothed his hand down the alchemist's bloody back, tongue flickering over the one that came seeking blood before he nipped, demanding control of the kiss. Arching his own still clothed form a little, he pressed them snug together.

Kimblee hissed into the sin's mouth at the sharp pain that simple gesture brought. Normal humans didn't have the benefit of shark's teeth so a simple bite was nothing more than a slight pain that could be overlooked. Where Greed was concerned in said bite... it hurt like hell and bled afterward. Two things the alchemist didn't mind except that is was the sin's way of getting back at him. Or so he gathered, he didn’t know nor honestly care. It was a needed pain, something to keep his mind focused for as long as possible before he knew the inevitable desire would overtake his thoughts and lead into un-thought actions. He slid his hips suggestively upwards as if he were planning to sit up and pulled his head away from the deathtrap of a mouth.

Greed kept his grip in the dark hair at the base of the man's neck, not letting him go very far as his other hand slid over his bottom before he started tugging at the catches of his own pants. It was one obstacle he hadn't really had a chance to deal with yet.

Why did he get the feeling that it would always be the hard way with this bastard? Probably because he wasn't a willing bitch to anyone and fought tooth and nail to keep it that way. He figured the sin's ultimate goal with all this was to somehow get him to submit without a fight or come willingly to his bed. _What fucking bed? Second time around and we're still on the floor._ He mumbled with a subtle roll of his eyes. That thought alone sent him into a fit of angry struggles with the hand at his neck. Why the hell was he even entertaining a thought of next time when he was going to make damn sure there wasn't! There shouldn't even have been a second time!

Greed tightened his fingers, digging nails into the skin a little to make him be still. Well, until he got his pants out of the way at least. He wriggled his hips a little to get them to slide, then returned his hand to the man's lower back, using his feet to kick the pants off and away.

Kimblee threw his head back in protest with a angry growl. He reached backward to grasp a hold of Greed's hand, to rip the god damned hand off, and was struck with a sense of de ja vu. This is how it started... he'd blow that fucking hand off before and now it seemed he was going to do it again. The ache in his neck would be a momentary pain he could live with if those damned nails would be gone. 

Greed didn't let him rip it away this time though, instead quickly dancing his hand downwards over his bared skin, running nails over his spine. "You know you're enjoying yourself." It was a thick murmur, and he rubbed up against him, bloodied skin against skin.

He was already half-cocked as it were from the entire event and damned if he wasn't hardening more just by mere contact with warm flesh against him. If he were truly insane, he would continue to fight off each attempt with bursts of explosive alchemy and be damned what those claws would do to him, but he wasn't and he didn't feel the need for more unnecessary injury. But he wasn't just going to give the smug prick the satisfaction of knowing, that he bloody well was. It was something he wouldn't even allow himself. "Fuck off."

"I fully intend to." Greed ran his palm over the man's butt and squeezed a little, eyes lazy. "Good to know you're amiable to the idea." He ran his fingers along the length of the man's spine, already moving his body a bit.

"With you, it wouldn't matter now would it?" He spit back venomously, trying to hide the fact that he shivered the entire time Greed's hand was moving along his back. This time around he had better control over himself and was somewhat prepared for something like this. Somehow it was different with Mustang, who he thought about in that moment. There was another loose end that needed taken care of before long, otherwise Greed would be proven right and he would lose his toy to someone else. That made the Crimson Alchemist see nothing but red haze for long moments, almost making him forget where he was and who exactly he was with. But as he shifted against Greed's body he was brought back to reality.

Greed wasn't oblivious to his alchemist's distraction, but he wasn't really insulted. Really though, the man could keep himself in the present moment until after. "Thinking again I see." Greed moved his body, smearing his own blood more fully between them.

This time, he didn't hide that fact that he was exasperated and rolled his eyes for the sin to see. Just more fuel to the fire he supposed. His voice was fully aloof and mocking as he eyed the man. "I believe I already said you bore me. Something has to keep me entertained while you fumble about now doesn't it?" 

Greed moved his hands quickly to that slender waist, tipping his hips in the same action before slamming into the alchemist with no further warning. "I'll keep that in mind for the future then." 

Kimblee's only response was a startled yelp as he arched in protest. He wasn't sure if the dots dancing in his vision were a good sign just yet since his nerves were reeling over the fact that he'd just been impaled without a hint of preparation. How he loathed the son of a bitch for that and thought better of the letting loose the torrid curses that seared the back of his throat. Something like this deserved retaliation but he was too busy forcing himself to relax.

Greed started petting his flanks at that point, fingers still painted in blood from rubbing it over himself. Kimblee wanted to be difficult? Fine, then he'd give him what he wanted and not take his time with him. He played his fingers up his back, violet eyes watching him closely.

Tarnished amber eyes snapped back into focus with relative ease after the shock and initial pain wore away into a dull thudding. He pinned Greed with the most lethal of his glares and turned it up just that extra little bit to make the sin feel special. He would be getting the bastard back for this treatment, but right now he would get through this and plan his attack carefully. "I fu…cking hate you."

Greed rolled his hips, hands still firm on the Alchemist's waist. "I know you do." He dropped his voice into a purr as he dipped his head to lap at the blood that was coating the other man. "And I don't care." 

Kimblee titled his head backward to look at anything but those inhuman eyes that mocked him. He should really blow his head off again but the thought of the carnage that would follow made him regret the thought since it pulled a groan from his throat and let it drift into the air. Sometimes he hated thinking.

Greed ran his hand up to between the alchemist's shoulder blades and yanked him down, back into range so he could start nibbling that dark fluid off of his skin. His other hand gripped his hip, and he started a hard pace.

In a moment's pure feeling Kimblee forgot why he hated this so much. True it was a little raw and he hadn't fully gotten use Greed's invasion but was it all that bad? Not really, considering with this ferocity the alchemist could barely register anything beyond the sliding fiction and sweep of pointed teeth across his skin. The moment was shattered though when a nip was too hard, probably drawing blood of his own to the surface. He glared at the sin but began to rock against the crashing hips all the same.

Greed started lapping at the still blood covered areas, eyes lidded as he used the hand on Kimblee's hip to move him a little, having a rather good memory of the needed angle from last time... He wanted the man fully drenched in feeling.

How the hell was he ever going to curb this habit before it actually formed when it felt this good? The subtle adjustments here, the punctuated burst of pleasure there... it was like a never-ending cycle that he was powerless to fight against. And what horrified him was that he didn't want to fight it, not now anyway. Intermingled with the feeling of being filled and coming to satiation was the one of self-loathing and pure hate directed solely at himself. Greed was left out of it for the moment since the battle was with himself. Very hard to have a battle of wills with oneself but it was happening for the alchemist. So headstrong in his opposition against the sin he refused the mounting sounds of pleasure to move beyond his lips. 

Greed thrust a little faster as he caught the slight hitch caused by pleasure in the alchemist's actions, and he took full advantage of it, lips moving to his earlier bite mark to suck his blood away from it. His free hand slid back into the wet hair that seemed to fascinate him so much.

Kimblee clamped down on his lower lip and bent his head forward to further deny himself the rush that flooded his body. Apparently this was a selling point even he didn't know he had. He'd always been the one for rough sex but this rough... it was an experience he enjoyed far more than he should have. Especially since he wasn't the issuer of said roughness. But while under the sin's roof, as it were, he wasn't getting many chances to do anything about that. Soon, he was forced to part his lips in favor of actually getting air to his lungs, though he fought with the searing heat that inflamed his lungs in an effort to keep quiet. 

Greed tugged Kimblee's head up with a forceful jerk, lips running to linger over his pulse with a nip. He changed his rhythm a little, near pausing after a particularly hard thrust, and he ground himself against the human's prostate. This time, he was taking quite a bit less care, frustrated enough by the man’s avoidance to take what he wanted and to worry about him later… If that had even been an issue in question.

Kimblee's legs felt weak with need as his body shook slightly from the mounting pleasure coursing through his veins. The icing on the cake to his certain demise was when his head was jerked upwards and those damned teeth crept over his throat. He couldn't stop the lingering moan from tumbling over his lips any more than he could stop the next one from slipping by after near painful burst of feeling spread outwards. Damned sin knew what he was doing and what was worse, he knew exactly how to bring the alchemist down to his level.

Greed let a small smirk work over his face, but it was pleasure drenched. That was what he'd wanted out of him. He'd wanted his alchemist to make noise for him, and he purred a little upon getting that, resuming his hard thrusts, faster. His control wasn't infinite, and he wasn’t about to pretend that it was.

He shouldn't have let this degrade so far so fast, but he had and now there was nothing he could do about it. He felt the familiar coiling in the pit of his stomach and knew that for all his snarling rigidity against giving anything to Greed out of this encounter, he was about to give the asshole exactly what he wanted. It was a sense of being the used little toy that made him growl in frustration, though it got strangled in his throat and came out more of a furtive whimper. His release was both a welcome event that had him convulsing off the waves of pure feeling and a painful reminder that he'd been woefully unprepared for this when he jerked slightly against Greed's body and felt something inside of him pinch painfully. Greed watched him, shivering hard as he picked up his pace, not letting the man recover from his climax before continuing. His lidded eyes remained on him intently though, lingering as a focus. 

Kimblee panted harshly through the forced litany of groans and pained sounds flitting from his throat. He tried to clamp his mouth shut and grind his teeth together through it but the need to breathe won out and once again he was subjected to hearing himself give the bastard more of what he was after. On some level of thought he silently wished he'd been mute, then this problem wouldn't have been a _problem_. Then again, he wouldn't have been a State Alchemist. That wouldn't have changed the fact that he was an alchemist since he'd been one for most of his life. The only major thing that would have changed was the employer that signed his paychecks. Of course, he'd been imprisoned for a fair amount of time in between his last active duty call but that was inconsequential. He arched away from Greed's body, riding out the last of his orgasm and trying not to notice the still painful cinching that seemed to only get worse with each rough thrust into him. 

Greed ground to a stop, arching his hips up in one last hard motion as he came, a low groan in his throat as his hands tightened painfully on his holds. Hot fluid flooded his entrance, soothing over the pain as some twisted form of relief after the assault to his body. _Not really an assault when he let it happen now was it._ It didn't matter anyway, Greed got what he wanted from him and he got something out of the deal. He wasn't just talking about a good lay either. He did clench his teeth together as he waited for Greed to be finished. He wasn't even sure if the sin was before he practically started to pry at his hands to get off him. He wanted his clothes, a shower, and a good stiff drink to kill whatever was left afterward. He was going to kill the smug bastard one way or another.

Greed freed his hair first, sitting up quickly so they were pressed chest to chest, his seriously damaged shirt still dangling from his shoulders. A small smirk flitted over his lips before he caught the man in an almost gentle kiss. "That was lovely."

The alchemist narrowed his eyes and nearly snapped at Greed's bottom lip. His breathing had yet to return to something similar to normal so his next few words took on a slightly heated and husky tone, "You're a sick bastard. Now let me _up_."

Greed slid his hand from his waist around his hips in a snug hold. He nuzzled once at his cheek as a slightly bemused look crossed his face. "Fine, I'll let you go get clean."

Kimblee started to slowly untangle himself from the sin's body, gingerly pulling away from the bastard's lap. He didn't know what had happened in those last few brutal strokes but whatever it was it hurt. Not unlike the dull ache he knew his body would feel in the morning after a night's rest but something brighter and more vivid. He almost smiled at that. He pulled himself to his feet somehow then collected himself enough to head back to the little hole in the wall he called his room. The shower wouldn't wait, couldn't, but he was tired and wanted nothing more than to lay down. Maybe in the shower he could refine the finer points of his revenge against the Greed whom he knew was still watching him as he left. Somehow he was going to wipe that smile off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is where I lost contact with my coauthor, though the next arc was going to bring Roy back in. Thank you for reading this old, and extremely long, work.


End file.
